


The Vainglorious Journey

by itspixiesthings, PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bottom Kylo Ren, Digital Art, Dom/sub Undertones, Embedded Images, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Elements, Feels, Happy Ending, Inspired by The Taming of the Shrew, Kylux Big Bang 2018, M/M, Mild Blood, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Not Between Kylo and Hux, Possessive Hux, Sharing a Bed, Smoking, Top Armitage Hux, Virgin Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: When Armitage Hux, the third Baron of Arkanis, finds himself penniless and near the end of his rope, he throws his name on the shortlist for Commander of the Royal Army. He never dreamt that he would be leaving his meeting with the King and Queen of Alderaan with an even bigger problem: handfasted to the impossibly gorgeous (but equally spoilt) heir-apparent, Prince Ben Solo.AThe Taming of the ShrewAU.





	1. A Royal Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I’m so glad to be a part of this year's bang!!! I've always wanted to write a "The Taming of the Shrew" AU, but while I love the premise, there were things I wanted to tweak. Hopefully, this retains some of the inspiration without the more non-consensual elements, while also reflecting Hux and Kylo's canon characterizations.
> 
> I have to thank my two brilliant, amazing betas: [ Isa1187](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isa1187) and [ rudbeckia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia), who looked this over for SPaG, readability, and authenticity; and also [KTC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor), my smut wrangler and forever cheerleader.
> 
>  **ALSO:** A _massive_ thanks to my darling [Pixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings)!! Not only is she fun, supportive, and multi-talented, but she didn't bail when the story took a much fluffier turn than originally intended ❤️❤️❤️ And of course, to the mods for all their hard work.
> 
>  
> 
> *Story by PalenDrome. Art by itspixiesthings  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Enough!” the King roared. “You _will_ do your duty and be married. In fact, your betrothed is here right now, and we shall perform the handfasting ceremony shortly.”
> 
> Ben’s gaze followed his father’s pointed finger, his eyes widening as he stared at Hux. “You. . .you’re the one they’ve saddled me to?” he breathed. “I hadn’t taken you for a fool but you must be one, to have agreed to something as foolish as marriage without knowing a single thing about me.”

* * *

* * *

 “God’s hooks!” Hux looked up with a grimace as the tankard thumped on the table, its dark contents sloshing over the sides. He glared at the serving girl, who promptly smirked and threw down his dish of pottage with even more emphasis. “I’m the one who’s paying for this tripe, not the table!”

“Hush.” Hux’s companion placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “What’s got into that pretty lass’ knickers, anyway?”

“Definitely not me.” At his friend’s quizzical look, Hux sighed. “Apparently, she mistook my natural, roguish charm for a different sort of inclination. It’s made me the recipient of her ill-humour.”

Phasma snorted. “Poor thing truly has no idea, does she?” She turned and watched as the wench turned her heel and left in a huff. “I’d be careful to make sure that your supper doesn’t contain anything inedible.”

“At this point, I’d settle for anything that leaves my insides in their proper place.” Hux frowned as he placed his hand in his pocket and felt the weight of his half-empty purse, too light of coin. “It’s not as if I have much of a choice. The next passably hospitable inn is nearly a day’s ride away.”

“Uh-huh.” Phasma stared at Hux, humming thoughtfully. Hux felt the flush spread over his pale cheeks and onto the tips of his ears. He may have been able to cut down his adversaries equally well with a sword or a cold sneer, but the one person he could never cozen was his childhood friend. “Pliny is one of the finest destriers I’ve ever seen. He could easily carry you to Feressee’s Point in under four hours.”

“Not if I can’t keep him fed and protected. Autumn is upon us; I was lucky to get a stall tonight, so he didn’t have to spend another in the fallow fields.”

The blue of Phasma’s eyes turned steely. “Armitage. What aren’t you telling me?”

Hux put down his fork, the pewter handle clanging dissonantly against the rim of the plate. He brought the heel of his hand to his eyes and rubbed them, suddenly weary. “Lord Snoke’s decided to pull back on his plan to attack Ematt’s seat in the county of Yavin.”

“And this obviously distresses you.”

“Caluan Ematt hasn’t fought in nearly twenty years. The only natural defenses he has are the woods and marsh to the south. We could easily flank him with a smaller battalion from the north and the east, while the remainder of the troops face him directly on the west.”

“But…?”

“But Lord Snoke won’t give me the resources and manpower to do what I know would be successful. He doesn’t understand that the swiftness and surety of such a victory would offset the initial costs. If we went about things his way, we’d run out of supplies right before winter—and the respect of my men, and victory, will be gone with it.” Hux took a swig of his ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he set it back down angrily. “Once again, my fate lies in the ignorance and tight fists of these Lords.”

Phasma dug into her blank maunger. “Perhaps the problem lies in your choice of whom you serve. You know that the lesser nobles have less gold with which to allow you to carry out your brilliant plans.”

Hux frowned. “A greater title does _not_ necessarily mean greater wealth, nor greater intelligence.”

“But many of the hereditary nobility—the Dukes and Duchesses, the Marquesses—have the stability of finances and manpower that you’re currently lacking.”

“There’s always a trade-off, though,” Hux said, leaning back and sighing. “The larger the army, the less autonomy I’ll have to do what I know is needed.”

“They may surprise you, however. Some of these nobles have a family history of bloodshed and machinations that make even _your_ tactics seem tame. Align yourself with the right ones, and your ambition may finally have the outlet it deserves.” The corners of Phasma’s lips tilted up in a self-satisfied smile. “Take me, for instance. Signing a contract with the Marchioness Holdo has been a boon. Not only does she have considerable resources, but she is a fair and equitable employer. Enough to allow a woman to become a captain.”

“Ahh.” Hux looked contrite. “Here I am, wallowing in self-pity, when we should be celebrating your advancement.” He patted the bag in his pocket once more, then made his decision. “Two servings of your best red wine,” he said, gaining the attentions of one of the serving wenches. He was glad to see that the woman he had spurned earlier was nowhere in sight. He’d freely share the last of his coin with Phasma, but he’d be damned if he’d throw it away on some blashy drink from a third pressing, or worse, contaminated with something appalling.

“I’m buying this round.” Phasma’s mouth turned down into a firm line at Hux’s sound of protest. “Put aside your foolish pride for one minute and listen. I’m not blind; I’ve seen the state of your cloak, and worse, your purse. You’re staying overnight in a place that looks more like a cruck house than an inn. I know you value your autonomy, but no matter what, we are still beholden to those who commission us.”

“You know how important my independence is, Gwenyth. I refuse to let my fate be determined by another.”

“Not everyone that you meet in your life is your father.”

Hux glared. “I _know_ that,” he hissed. “But I’m also smart enough that I won’t make the mistakes of my past. Especially those of my mother.”

“What kind of mistakes are you talking about, Armitage?”

Hux waved his hand. “Love. Trust.”

“Life without either of those makes for a lonely existence. And I’d at least hope that you’d have those things with me,” Phasma said, looking affronted.

“Of course I do. I’ve known you forever; you’re like the sister I never had.”

“Like family, then?” Phasma asked with an arch of her brow.

Hux let out a growl. The long months at battle, his frustration over Lord Snoke’s lack of foresight, his fatigue and near-penniless state had seriously affected his ability to come up with an effective rejoinder. “Keep pushing me, and you’ll see how much,” he said cryptically.

Phasma laughed. “Well, I think you should still consider finding a position in an army with the finances to back you. Word is, that the king and queen of Alderaan are looking for a new Commander for the Royal Army.”

Hux choked. “The _Royal Army?!_ That’s like going from paddling in Kenfig Pool to diving in Lough Neagh.”

“Be that as it may. The size may actually work to your advantage. You’ve always had a talent for getting men to look up to you, and—not in that way, you rogue,” she added, rolling her eyes as Hux smirked. “Seriously; a force the size of the Royal Army may be so large that you’ll still have relative autonomy despite answering to others. And, hopefully, at least those people would see the strategic value of your plans, rather than weighing their merit purely in gold.”

“Hmmm. You may have a point. Perhaps I’ll look into it further.” Hux looked up as their wine was placed in front of them. It was a deep red, definitely not a piquette, and looked delicious and full-bodied and promising. He lifted his cup, tilting his head towards Phasma. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” she echoed, tilting her head back and taking a healthy gulp.

Hux brought the vessel to his lips. The spicy bouquet of the drink tickled his nostrils; he closed his eyes, prepared to savour the earthy, heady and fruity taste when he was suddenly jostled from behind, causing the wine to spill all over the front of his jerkin.

“Oops,” said a simpering voice as Hux stood up in a flash.

_“Oops,”_ Hux exclaimed. He straightened, only to discover that the troublemaker still stood several inches taller. He peered past the man’s surprisingly broad shoulders to see three similarly inebriated young men watching the altercation with eager anticipation. “Spare me your eloquent apologies,” Hux said, his face heating from his anger, embarrassment, and loss. “Know that your thoughtlessness has robbed me not only of my drink, but my chance at toasting the good fortune of my friend.”

Something approaching contrition flashed across the young man’s face before it was replaced by a smirk. “Must not have been much to celebrate if you were toasting it with that swill.” A soft laugh escaped from his plush lips as his companions brayed in the background.

“Watch your tongue,” Hux hissed. “I’ve enough left to stain that prettily embroidered silk you’ve hidden beneath those robes.”

The man drew his outer coat tighter around him as his amber eyes flashed warily. He leaned forward, the ends of his ebony locks falling across his face as his cheeks flushed pink. “You should thank me, for making those beggarly rags more appealing. The wine I upended just doubled their worth.”

Hux withdrew the bodkin from his sleeve, silencing the laughter that had started as he pressed the sheathed tip against the young man’s side. “Make a mockery of me again, and I promise you, you’ll have a stain even nicer than mine.”

One of the man’s companions, a boorish lout with more muscles in his little finger than cells in his brain, took a menacing step forward. “Have you any idea who you’re talking to?” he spat.

The corners of Hux’s lips curled up into a sneer. “By all appearances, a spoilt boy who’s trying too hard to be a man.” He ran the dagger along his adversary’s side, watching closely as trepidation mixed with anticipation. The youth’s mouth parted; his breaths came in quick huffs as his hands—their strength evident even through the cover of his embroidered, satin mittens—clenched in concert with each tick of the dagger against his ribs. The look was surprisingly appealing, and Hux nearly growled as he felt his body react in response. “A word of advice,” he hissed. “The next time you decide to mingle with the plebeians, be careful whose path you cross. There may be many an unscrupulous soul who would be only too glad to aid you in your quest.” He withdrew his bodkin and slid it back into the lining of his sleeve.

The man’s companions moved forward en masse. “And you, sir, should know that appearances can be deceiving,” he retorted as he held his entourage in abeyance with a raised hand. “Perhaps it would be wise for you to remember that the beauty of wolfsbane is matched only by its deadliness.” He held Hux’s attention with a mutinous glare, then swished his robes as he turned, and flounced away.

Hux found himself slowly letting out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Making friends, Armitage?” Phasma teased, although the press of her mouth betrayed her worry.

Hux sat back down. He ran his hand through his hair, unsure why the exchange left him feeling strangely bereft. “You’re the only friend I need,” he answered. “Anyone else is just a conveyance stop in life’s journey.”

“That sounds terribly solitary. And horribly lonely,” Phasma said softly.

“Nonsense. I’ve made my decision; I will see the king and queen of Alderaan about the position of Commander of the Royal Army. With nearly ten thousand men at my side, how could I possibly feel lonely?” He made a moue as he noticed his near-empty cup of wine, and reached for the tankard of ale instead. “A toast,” he declared. “And a proper one, this time.”

Phasma lifted her glass. “To new beginnings.”

“ _Dignitas Amicorum Pie Zeses Vivas,”*_ Hux added, screwing up his face as he downed the remainder of the flat, warm malt in one gulp.

**.~O ⚜O~.**

“Rotten timing,” someone muttered as another prospective applicant left the solar room and entered the great hall in a huff. “They’ve been interviewing for their commander for nearly a month, but we’re stuck meeting with the King and Queen after such a disastrous night.”

“Indeed,” said another as Hux leaned forward, his ears pricking at the conversation. The position seemed to have stoked the interest of not only some noteworthy competitors, but virtually every knight from the surrounding areas who could still handle a sword. “I know someone who actually attended the ball, and the word is that the Organa-Solos are at their wit’s end.”

“I’d rather ride into battle armed with only a horseman’s pick and a mace than be saddled with the likes of His Royal Highness,” sniggered a third. “The prince is said to have reduced many a grown man to a squalling babe.”

Hux suppressed an eye roll. The gossiping that was taking place would put a gaggle of interfering, matchmaking busybodies to shame. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to learn what he could of his potential employer; any information, including that which could be used to their disadvantage, could prove useful.

“How difficult could a pampered prince be?” he mused, his interest piqued.

“Terribly, apparently.” The man to Hux’s left gave him a disarming smile. The narrowed shape of his sword at his hip and his pomegranate silk vest with its rich, golden embroidery and slashed fabrics suggested a background with the Castilian army. “His Royal Highness has refused all the suitors who have come before him. Last night, it was rumoured that he not only turned each one down, but proceeded to threaten the alliances of several neighbouring nations simultaneously.”

“It’s worse than that, Captain Dameron,” his companion remarked. “They say that the King and Queen are so desperate, they’ve arranged a meeting between the prince and the Duke of Canto Bight.”

The room hushed as Hux lifted a brow. His Grace was as famed for his licentiousness as he was for his sour disposition, a distinction he carried proudly for nearly forty years. “All because some hapless noble can’t control the behaviour of one recalcitrant man-child—”

“Sergeant Major General Hux?” The door to the solar room swung open as yet another candidate left with a frustrated scowl. Hux swallowed his surprise; the poor sod had barely been given the time to state his title, never mind interview for the position. “Their Majesties, the King and Queen of Alderaan, will see you now.”

Hux nodded briefly to his competitors, then drew himself to his full height. He was aware that his best clothes were a bit worn, although impeccably neat, and that they were not of the latest style. His role, however, would be leading men on the field and not the dance floor, so he pushed the twinge of embarrassment aside and followed the royal advisor in.

The training of his childhood came rushing back as he approached the royal couple and greeted them with a perfectly executed bow.

“Sergeant Major General Hux, Your Majesties,” the royal advisor proclaimed. “Most recently, the general of the troops of the Earl of Malin, Viscount Eisley.”

“Rise, General.” Hux lifted his eyes, careful not to reveal his amazement at the fact that the Queen seemed to be directing the interview. Her brown gaze met his, sharp and narrow. “Your surname is most unusual. I once knew a Lord Hux. The Baron of Arkanis.”

Hux flushed as he pushed the bile back down his throat. “He is my father. I am his youngest child: the third Baron of Arkanis.”

“How curious. I was not aware that your father had such a large family. Although, to be fair, Arkanis is quite removed from our borders, and therefore less familiar.”

Hux redirected the conversation; the less he had to consider his father, the better. “I assure you, I have spent the majority of my years on the Continent, and am quite familiar with its topography and styles of warfare.”

The king leaned forward, his eyes dancing with amused interest. It struck Hux that he must have been an exceedingly charming man in his youth. “So you have knowledge and confidence,” he mused. “These are characteristics which every man who has stood before us today also possess. Yet Arkanis and Malin are much smaller provinces. How are you certain that you are capable of leading something the size of the Royal Army?”

“It is not the size so much, but one’s mastery of command. A single insurgent with a persuasive voice is much more dangerous than a group of one thousand men who share the same passion and beliefs. I make it my responsibility to lead through inspiration, but also rely on discipline and example, when required.”

The Queen’s lips thinned with displeasure. “I may have mentioned that Arkanis was less familiar, but your father’s. . . _reputation_ is not unknown. To lead by fear is a temporary thing, at best.”

Hux took a deep breath in through his nostrils, his ire raised. “I agree, Your Majesty. I assure you, no matter what you may have heard, I am _not_ my father. When I speak of discipline, it is not necessarily corporeal. It may be as simple as setting limits and establishing consequences, or modifying behaviour through praise and reward. However, there are times where a firmer hand may be required. I doubt that pretty words and encouragement would work on a rabid cur.”

“Are there any types of men who you find more difficult to manage than others?” the King asked curiously.

“If there are, I haven’t met them yet. Whether a banneret or a palisade, or a hobiler or paviser, I feel equally competent to command, control, and inspire,” Hux answered smugly.

The ready response on the Queen’s lips died as the doors to the solar room flew open. A tall, thin, balding male entered, obviously distressed, while a great commotion could be heard in the background.

“Mr Daniels?” the Queen asked, her eyes betraying her concern.

“It’s the prince.” Mr Daniels visible swallowed, the cultured tones of his voice faltering as he wrung his hands. “I am afraid that his assessment of His Grace was most unflattering.”

The King let out an audible snort. “Rather par for the course, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, the prince made his assessment of His Grace quite clear while in a public forum. His words were, and I quote: ‘The proposition of being wed to you is so loathsome that I would rather sleep with the rats in the dungeons than spend a single moment with you in my bed.’ He then proceeded to liken His Grace’s visage to the contents of his chamber pot.”

“He is impossible,” the Queen seethed. “He has alienated all who have come to court him!”

“It is far graver than that, I’m afraid, Your Majesty. His Grace threatened a ban on trade as well as a withdrawal of his military support to Alderaan in retaliation. It might be in your best interest to travel to Canto Bight and meet with Prime Minister McQuarrie.”

“I’m sure the damage is not irreparable,” the King interjected. “Ben is a tad rumbustious, ‘tis true, but I was not so different in my youth.”

“He is quick of temper and loose of tongue, and he will never find love or happiness with such a selfish and poor attitude,” the Queen countered.

“What he needs is patience and understanding,” the King said as Hux let out a snort.

A pair of bejeweled crowns turned swiftly in Hux’s direction. “Do you find our predicament amusing, Mr Hux?” the Queen demanded.

“Forgive me,” Hux replied, attempting for a somber tone. “But unless His Royal Highness is a mere babe, such lack of boundaries will only encourage his ill-behaviour. The way to extinguish such attention-seeking patterns is by setting an immediate consequence.”

“Love is not something that can be fostered through a system of punishment and reward,” the Queen said, her frown deepening.

Hux lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “It would be an issue if love were more than a lie propagated on the lips of poets and dreamers.”

“Do you not believe in love, Mr Hux?” asked the King.

Hux’s eyes squeezed tight as he thought of his mother. “For my responsibilities, and my men, and my horse, I have the greatest of affections. But with regard to the romantic…” His eyes flew open, their green, glittering. “In my experience, love is a fool’s journey—a bootless errand, at best, and a vainglorious one, at worst. But I am sure these are subjects better suited for the musicians and artists of the court. I stand before you today as a man with experience and success in battle, many times under the most inhospitable of conditions—“

The rest of his statement was cut off as the Queen held up her hand. Her expression, previously cool, had turned into something faintly warm and appraising. Despite the change in her demeanour, her brow was drawn in a manner which made Hux wary. He watched as she leant towards her husband, and fought the urge to tilt forward in order to catch her hushed words.

“I quite agree,” the King mused, looking at Hux speculatively. “I think he will fit the role perfectly.”

“Your Majesty?” Hux nearly stammered, hating the way in which his response slid into a question, confirming his surprise. Were they offering him the position of Commander in the span of time it had taken them to reject those who had come before him? He had no doubt as to his capabilities, but surely—

“We would like to enlist your services,” the Queen started as Mr Daniels let out an astonished noise.

Hux’s lips pulled into a deferential smile even as his heart raced at the prospect. “It would be my honour to lead the Royal Army, Your Majesties, and to keep the kingdom of Alderaan safe and in all its glory.”

“I am afraid you misunderstand, Mr Hux,” the Queen interrupted with a smile of her own. “The Commander’s position _is_ on the table, but it is conditional. We would like to see if your skills at managing the hearts and loyalty of men are as great as you have said.”

A growing unease gnawed at Hux’s gut. “Are you proposing a task?”

“Not a task, per se. We are entrusting you with the future of our most precious possession,” the King clarified. “Our son, Ben.”

“The scenario which Mr Daniels spoke of is an unfortunately common one, I’m afraid,” added the Queen. “Our son’s stubborn temper and wild ways have left a dearth of appropriate suitors in their wake. It is our greatest hope that you, Mr Hux, will be successful in showing him the benefits of marriage.”

Hux didn’t bother to hide his shock. “You want. . .you are offering me the position of Commander of the Royal Army, in exchange for marrying the prince?” He felt his face heat with an unbecoming flush. “I will match wits and skills against anyone in battle, but regarding the matters of the heart, I cannot think of a worse choice. I’ve already informed you of my opinions on love; I’ve never imagined that I would even wed.”

“That is why you are the perfect choice, Mr Hux.” The Queen stepped off her throne and approached Hux, her smile now conspiratorial. “We are asking for one week of your time. During this period, you will accompany our son to the kingdom of Canto Bight, where he still retains an invitation to the Light Festival and Ball. My husband and I are heading there as well, as there are some ruffled feathers that apparently need smoothing over.

“During your week with my son, I hope that you will utilise your experience in leadership and command to teach Ben the value of discipline, and the ability to look beyond himself.”

“You are asking me to undo years of attitude and behaviour in seven days,” Hux said faintly.

“Prince Ben is but twenty-two years of age,” said the King. “He might be headstrong, but I don’t believe that he is so old that his values and opinions are immovable. Surely, you must encounter situations in the heat of battle where you are required to address the insecurities or opposition of men with much less at your disposal.”

The Queen looked pointedly at Hux’s worn boots. “We are proposing a handfasting ceremony, not only to establish your commitment to the task, but to also provide a context for your journey. If you succeed in taming Ben’s corybantic behaviours, you shall earn five thousand guineas for your efforts, along with the kingdom’s deepest thanks. Moreover, if you can convince him of the merits of marriage, albeit with another suitor, we shall grant you the commander’s position in the Royal Army. Either way, the betrothal contract will be broken at week’s end, and you will be absolved of your responsibility to our son when you reach Canto Bight.”

Hux weighed his options. He had no personal knowledge of the wayward prince, beyond the fact that he was petulant and difficult, and likely spoilt beyond reason. He was only three years younger than Hux, but a lifetime of warfare and hardship had made Hux calculating and cynical, certainly well-enough equipped to manage the likes of a noble who was accustomed to indulging in his every whim. He’d only need to put up with the royal hallion for a week, employing a firm hand, if necessary, to collect his immeasurable reward at the end.

“I agree to your terms,” Hux said, inclining his head. “And I look forward to serving you in the best of my capacity, as Commander in your esteemable army.”

“Excellent, Mr Hux. Mr Daniels, would you please inform Ben of the arrangement, and bring him down to meet his betrothed?”

The King watched warily as Mr Daniels hurried out. “I can arrange for a second carriage to accompany ours to Canto Bight. It may provide you additional privacy to better know each other. I doubt that Ben would be in an obliging frame of mind when surrounded by his parents.”

Hux shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, Your Majesty. However, I feel that an environment free from His Highness’ comfortable surroundings would be the best to break him of his typical reactions. Is he comfortable enough on a saddle?”

“Yes. In fact, he was quite the horseman when he was younger.”

“Not any more?” Hux asked, surprised.

A sad look crossed the King’s face. “His days are now more often occupied by drink and indecorous behaviour, I’m afraid,” he replied as Hux tucked away the bit of information.

“Where will you be staying, if you will not be travelling with our company?” the Queen asked.

“At an inn, when one is available. And when one is not, on a bedroll, in a tent.”

The Queen paled. “By yourselves? Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous, Mr Hux?” she asked.

“I assure you, I will not let any harm befall the prince,” Hux said, affronted.

“But it is _your_ safety that I am worried about,” the Queen responded with a smirk.

A loud clatter that sounded suspiciously like falling armour and splintering wood resonated throughout the hall. “No!” a voice bellowed, much deeper in tenor than Hux would have thought. “I refuse! Absolutely not!” The King and Queen exchanged worried looks as the subject of their consternation came barrelling into the room.

“You!” Hux gasped upon witnessing the very man who had upended his wine the week before. The prince had shed his nondescript robes for the finest of silks, the cut of the cloth accentuated by gilded buttons encrusted with gems and the most elaborate of needle laces. Though his nails were well-groomed and his locks lush and gleaming, his body was surprisingly broad and strong. The dichotomy between the prince’s simpering behaviour and his physical power caused Hux’s brain to stutter.

Prince Ben did not spare Hux a glance as he rushed up to his parents, his fists clenched in fury. “I am not one of your hounds that you can sell to the highest bidder. Who is it this time? The Marquess of Coruscant? The Princess of Utapau? The Duke of Hoth?” Hux flinched as the prince’s voice pitched high in a shriek.

“Nonsense, darling,” the Queen soothed. “We would never do anything as barbaric as that.”

“Although you’ve left us with little choice,” the King added. “You have refused to consider those who are eligible for marriage and of your stature. You are twenty-two, Ben, and need to think of your future and that of the kingdom. You are our sole heir, and therefore responsible for the lives of Alderaan’s populace. That’s well-over a million people who depend on your wisdom.”

“I do not need a husband or wife to be capable of making a decision,” Ben spat, stamping a booted heel.

“My family has ruled Alderaan for hundreds of years,” the Queen hissed. “No one has ever failed to embrace their duty.”

“Enough!” the King roared. His shoulders slumped, and he looked suddenly weary. “You _will_ do your duty and be married. In fact, your betrothed is here right now, and we shall perform the handfasting ceremony shortly.”

Ben’s gaze followed his father’s pointed finger, his eyes widening as he stared at Hux. “You. . .you’re the one they’ve saddled me to?” he breathed. “I hadn’t taken you for a fool but you must be one, to have agreed to something as foolish as marriage without knowing a single thing about me.”

Hux’s eyes grew flinty at the prince’s insolent assessment. “But you are wrong, Your Highness. I know that you are spoilt; a brat; and that you have a propensity for frequenting places that are better left to men. That’s three.” His hand flew as Ben made a move to slap him, clasping around his wrist and halting it mid-flight.

Ben’s nostrils flared. He leaned into Hux, and even without his retinue of sycophants and the failure of his rebuke, his posture remained daring.

“Then you have no idea of the type of man you’ve just agreed to marry. I look forward to showing you just how foolish you are,” he purred.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dignitas Amicorum Pie Zeses Vivas:_ An early toast with the meaning “Worthy among your friends! Drink that you may live. May you live!”


	2. Gag Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux flicked a cool gaze down Ben’s form. The prince’s clothes were in a disarray, the costly fabric dirtied and torn. His face was painted a becoming pink, his hair dampened from his efforts.
> 
> “If you continue to act the spoilt brat, then you shall receive a punishment just as fitting." His smile grew as Ben glowered. "I could bend you over my knee and take a switch to your arse. See how the stripe of a birch would paint your bottom’s undoubtedly soft complexion.”

* * *

The heat from the noon sun was unforgiving, yet Hux would rather take on a thousand more than suffer another moment of the prince’s dissonant tune:

_Toza de gentil afaire,_  
_Cavaliers fon vostre paire_  
_Que.us engenret en la maire,_  
_Car fon corteza vilana._  
_Con plus vos gart, m’etz belaire,_  
_E per vostre joi m’esclaire,_  
_Si.m fossetz un pauc humana!*_

Hux felt the muscle in his jaw tick. They had started their journey two hours later than planned, all due to the prince’s tantrum at the news that they would be travelling without his valet and his retinue of manservants. Still, he’d insisted on bringing several large chests in addition to his saddlebags, each one heavy and filled to the brim, which necessitated the addition of a cart and third horse. He was predisposed to making noise, the sounds spilling endlessly from his wide mouth, whether it was his musings, or observations, or his complaints.

Or, in this case, his tone-deaf ditties. It was enough to test the patience of a saint. Which Hux most certainly was _not._

“God’s teeth! Will you stop your incessant chatter?”

The prince turned, his eyes overly-wide and innocent. “My apologies. I didn’t realise it was wrong for me to profess my love for my intended.”

“Whoever said ‘music has charms to soothe a savage beast’ has never had the misfortune of your company. Your pitch makes the songbirds scatter. Not to mention, my ears bleed,” Hux griped.

The prince looked anything but contrite. “But what of the song’s meaning? We are to be married, after all. The least I could do is grace you with pretty words and a prettier tune, for such a happy occasion.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “The notion of love is a sweet poison of perfidy. Marriage is as much a duty as it is a sacrament. The sooner you realise that, the readier you will be for it.”

The prince appeared thoughtful. Hux’s hopes for a moment of peace were dashed, however, when it was replaced by a smug expression. “Perhaps this will be more to your liking, then,” he announced with a wicked grin:

_There in the flower garden_  
_I will die._  
_Among the rose bushes_  
_They will kill me._  
_I was on my way,_  
_Mother, to cut some roses;_  
_There in the flower garden_  
_I found my love,_  
_There in the flower garden_  
_They will kill me**_

Hux pressed his lips together so hard, they nearly disappeared from his face. “Although the words are apt, the tune is no more pleasing. Would it be too much to ask for a moment of respite from your dulcet tones, Your Highness? Consider it a behest, from your intended.”

“Only because you ask so nicely. And I’d prefer if you’d call me ‘Ben’. Seeing as we will be spending so much time in each other’s company,” he added, somewhat petulantly.

“If that’s what you prefer, Your Worshipfulness,” Hux began. He wasn’t able to complete his response as Ben sat back and urged his horse into a canter.

Despite the King’s declaration that it had been years since Ben rode, his form was one of startling elegance and grace while astride his palfrey. His back was straight, his thighs strong, and his hips tilted in concert with the horse’s changing movements. The muscular globes of his buttocks shifted rhythmically, their form clearly visible in a pair tight-fitting trousers that tapered into the pair of long, black riding boots that came above his knee.

Hux watched, fascinated, then cursed himself for the momentary distraction. He dug in and brought Pliny alongside Ben’s horse.

“Don’t ride ahead of me,” he warned.

“The path’s too bumpy and the sun’s too hot,” Ben grumbled. “I don’t know why we’re moving at a snail’s pace. Vader is light on his feet, and so is your destrier.” Between the unrelenting sun and Ben’s layered garments, a sheen of sweat had developed on his skin. Hux resisted the urge to wipe the offending material from where it had collected over Ben’s brow. “The faster we ride, the sooner we’ll reach our destination.”

Hux snorted. “We can’t ride too fast; we’re stuck with the packhorse and cart, to carry all our provisions and those things you apparently couldn’t do without. If you’re that concerned about making good time, perhaps we could rid ourselves of some of them to lighten the load. Like that blasted trunk,” he added, eyeing the heavy, ornate container that sat on top, warded by several locks.

“We’re going to a _ball_. How could I possibly be clothed in less than the finest apparel and jewelry?”

Hux snorted. “‘Twould be a wasted effort,” he muttered under his breath.

Ben tossed his head. “How so?”

“Look around you,” Hux said in exasperation. “People have stolen and killed for a fraction of what you carry with you. You announce the softness of your lifestyle and flaunt your wealth with every fibre of your being. Should we be beset by a band of highwaymen, the loss of your precious clothing would be the least of your worries.”

“If the task of protection is too great, I wonder how gifted a leader you truly are,” Ben sniffed. “How could you possibly command an army, when you can’t guard a single cart’s worth of our belongings?”

“They’re _your_ belongings, the very nature of which puts us in danger. And I _am_ a leader. Of _men._ Not a nursemaid to some bratty, snivelling child.”

“I detest you,” Ben snarled. “To think that I’m stuck making this journey with such deplorable company, when I could be travelling in comfort with my family. The only merciful thing in this otherwise damnable day is the thought of a nice meal, some fine wine, and a soft bed at the nearest tavern.”

“I am to be your family as well,” Hux reminded Ben with a vicious satisfaction. “And I wouldn’t grow too attached to the idea of sleeping with a roof over your head. Due to our late start, there’s a good chance we’ll have to set up camp tonight instead.”

Ben started, his face growing pale. “But what shall we do for food?”

“We have some bread and fruit. Otherwise, we’ll have to rely on our own skills to hunt and forage. There’s no staff to cook our meals, and we need at least six pounds of food between us, and nearly ten times that for our horses, every day.”

Ben looked a bit ill. “And for our drink?”

Hux tilted his head towards the bucket that clunked against the sides of the cart behind them. “To be collected once we reach our destination,” he answered smugly.

Ben hesitated, his grip visibly tightening on the reins. “And what about things of a more. . .personal nature?”

“Such as. . .?” Hux asked slowly.

“What if we have the need to relieve ourselves?”

“We’ll be sharing a tent. I’d prefer not to be privy to your graceless fumblings.”

Ben flushed a rather becoming pink, the colour spreading to the tips of his ears. “No. . .not that. What are we to do in place of a garderobe,” he hissed.

Hux rolled his eyes. “We’re out in the woods. So unless you fancy digging yourself a latrine, you’ll do your business out in the open.”

Ben’s mouth dropped. “I am a _prince,”_ he said, a slight hysteria seeping into his tone. “I refuse to display my parts, stripped to the skin like some common kitchen—”

“Is your prick gilded? Are your bollocks worth their weight in gold?” Hux interrupted, his gaze stone cold. “Because I’ve seen my share of cocks and bits, and I can guarantee you, it’s nothing to act the madman over.”

“Hmmph. You speak like a man who’s been surrounded by mediocrity his entire life. Or, perchance, even your own,” Ben sniped.

Hux felt his face heat as he took a deep breath. His goal was to bring the prince into line and to deliver him to Canto Bight as quickly as possible, without further attachment. Besides, he preferred his partners fiery and responsive, while someone like the prince would probably lie there just like some cumberworld. But that didn’t mean he was above needling Ben with the threat of buggery.

“I assure you, husband-to-be; at night, when you’re on all fours and I’m riding you below the crupper, you’ll have no questions as to just how memorable I can be.”

Ben scowled indignantly, his pretty, plush mouth dropping open as he stared at Hux in outrage, before spurring his horse forward.

Hux let out a long sigh, giving Ben several seconds before he caught up once more.

“Do _not_ ride before me without my permission again,” he warned, tightening on the reins to bring Pliny’s head closer to Vader’s. Ben’s shoulders slumped, but thankfully he slowed his pace. Hux squashed down the part of him that flared with guilt as he took in Ben’s disheartened posture. The sooner that the brat learned to control his unruliness, the better it would be for both of them.

**.~O ⚜O~.**

Hux grimaced as he removed the broadhead arrow from the hare, thankful that it hadn’t pierced completely through. He disliked hunting as a rule, much preferring to match his wit and skills with other men, and his distaste of it grew exponentially without the aid of horse or hound. But not only was he loath to risk the health of their horses any further in the pursuit of larger game, it had rapidly become apparent that hunting with the Prince was not only a fruitless, but very possibly a dangerous, activity.

Of course, the royal pain-in-his-arse had complained every step of the way. Ben initially appeared excited about the prospect of hunting deer, his eyes lighting up for the first time in many hours, before deeming the whole task worthless if it couldn’t be done _par force._

“Why would you think we would be hunting deer?” Hux asked, incredulous. “Our packhorse is already unnecessarily burdened, and it is much too large an animal to be consumed by two men on one week’s journey.” People may have deemed him cold and calculating, but Hux was never unnecessarily cruel. He always considered his options, and sought the most effective and efficient way in which to achieve his means. Logic and its implementation were hardly equivalent to viciousness or malice.

He was _not_ his father.

“There is a nobility to the ritual of the hunt,” Ben sniffed. “It is done to bestow an honour to your quarry. To show them their worth.”

“To what end?” Hux responded, genuinely confounded. “The result is the same: the target of your efforts feeding your belly or warming your skin. Would you rather see the energies of your men, your stables, your hounds and your weapons expended in such a wasteful manner? All for the ritual of a kill? I would rather be happily fed and continuing on with my journey, whilst you and your party remain holding your quarry at bay.”

Ben gave him a superior smile. “It is a great fault of yours, then. To be so limited in your vision as to only see things from your perspective.”

Hux let out a raucous laugh. “As opposed to you?” he sneered. “I am not the one whose parents saw fit to handfast to a complete stranger, solely because he was too self-absorbed to do what was his birthright and duty.”

“No,” Ben agreed, his gaze hardening. “You are even the greater fool. Because you agreed to such a proposition while your ability to refuse it was available and your eyes were wide open.”

Hux choked, his face turning a most unbecoming shade of red. “And you, Ben, are a fool for baiting a man who has been given permission to do whatever is necessary to address your disobedience. I am not above turning you over my knee like the child you obviously are, until you either acquiesce or are begging for mercy.”

Ben’s eyes grew wide, and just like they had at their initial encounter at the tavern, his cheeks stained pink even as his words grew angry. Perhaps a part of him realised the futility of goading Hux directly, but that didn’t stop him from kicking up a fuss, or being so loud as to startle their prey, or worse, spook their horses into doing something dangerous. In the end, it was the growing number of clouds and the sudden coolness of the air that forced Hux’s hand. He set up camp, then tasked Ben with fetching water and gathering the wood to start a fire, while he worked on capturing their meal.

With Ben gone, Hux had been able to regain some of his composure. After an hour, he made his way back to camp with two hares and a pheasant in hand, along with some hazelnuts he had found in the woods. With the prospect of dinner and the end of their first day, he resolved to make inroads with the prince. Perhaps after their meal, Ben could be made to see the necessities for a strong alliance, and the import of such things as diplomacy…

The murmur of voices stopped him in his tracks. He approached the camp cautiously, murmuring for Pliny to be quiet.

“The nearest town? That would be Mos Espa, though I would hold tight to your purse.” The woman who spoke appeared young—likely two or three years less than Ben, if Hux were to guess. Her hair was tied in a bun and her skin tanned, as if used to labouring the sun. She was dressed in the loose and well-worn clothes of a traveller, and she was eyeing Ben’s fancy garments in a manner that was much too considered for Hux’s liking.

“Mos Espa is famed for its criminal sort. The poorest will have little to grant you, while those who do will make you bleed for it,” her companion added. He appeared strong; the fit of his leather doublet suggested someone with experience in fighting, although Hux was confident he could easily outmatch the stranger when it came to his own skills with a weapon.

“But if I were to go? How long will it take me to reach Mos Espa?” Ben persisted.

“Good sir,” the girl began. “If you are travelling alone _and_ you are unfamiliar with the region, then I would strongly advise against it. It is difficult enough for people such as Finn and I to deal with the townsfolk, and we have the advantage of history and knowing which establishments are considered friendlier.” She glanced at Ben’s embroidered and jewel-encrusted clothing, her mouth pulling into unmistakable disapproval. “I am afraid that you would not be as well-received.”

“In other words, a trip to Mos Espa is equivalent to an invitation for trouble,” Finn agreed.

“What if I pay you?” Ben pleaded. “I have plenty. I can reward you handsomely for your efforts.”

Finn shook his head. “Rey and I have no need for much coin. We earn what we need, and live off the land and as our circumstances see fit. We have no means by which to store such riches; to covet more than we could carry would place an unwanted target on our heads.”

“Finn and I can always use more food, however. If you would prefer to barter that way?”

Ben hung his head. “I haven’t any to give, sadly.”

Finn’s jaw dropped. “You travel alone, with all these horses, and you don’t have any food to sustain you?” He turned to Rey, concern clearly writ across his face. “Mayhaps we should take him along with us—”

“Luckily for him, I am available to do just that.” Hux rode in, careful to show off Pliny in the most authoritative fashion. “In fact, it is my duty,” he added.

He dismounted, then withdrew an official-looking parchment from his side pocket. The fact that it was his contractual agreement with Lord Snoke didn’t matter; he would have bet everything they had that neither traveller had the education to comprehend the flowery words that were written on it. He bit back his satisfaction as his suspicions were confirmed; Rey glanced at the calligraphic script only briefly, her eyes focusing on the official seal, then handed the parchment back to Hux as Ben looked on with a scowl.

Hux coughed. “As you can see, I am responsible for my Lord’s care and well-being. In fact, I was hunting for his meal when you came upon him.”

Finn frowned. “Why would he request our help, then?”

“The poor thing was afflicted with the fever when he was young,” Hux lied smoothly. “Although he appears the picture of health, his cognition is unfortunately lacking.” He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret, but spoke loudly enough for Ben to hear. “He quite fancies himself the prince, you see. And on certain days, we indulge him by dressing him in such finery, as it is much easier to deal with than his tantrums.”

“But I _am a_ prince!” Ben roared. He pointed to the royal insignia, pinned to his cloak. “He is a liar of the first order! A kidnapper! A knave!”

“You see?” Hux whispered knowingly, tapping his own temple. “He can’t even keep his fantasies consistent.” He held out his parchment once more, as if to emphasise his point.

“Are you sure he’ll be all right?” Rey asked, her brow furrowing. “He doesn’t look very well.”

“I am _not_ well! I demand that the two of you accompany me to Mos Espa at once!” Ben stood, his fists clenching uncontrollably as he stamped his well-booted feet. “Do as I say, and I shall gift you with the finest meal.”

“But. . .I thought that you didn’t have any,” Finn began as Hux sniggered.

“He’s famished and weary. It is nothing that some good food and a good night’s rest can’t remedy,” Hux replied, gesturing towards the food he had collected. His smile turned genuine as he caught Rey and Finn’s hungry gazes. He strode towards Pliny, taking his time while making a deliberate show of untying his bounty. “I do appreciate your concern, however. I hope you will consider accepting this hare as a show of my appreciation,” he added as he held out the largest of the animals in a tempting fashion.

“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” Finn said slowly as Hux brought the plump rabbit closer.

“No trouble at all. In fact, I would invite you to stay and share in the meal, but alas, I believe that the weather has other plans for such hospitality.” Hux turned his face up to the darkening sky and sniffed. “The sharpness of the earth portends rain, and I’m afraid our tent is large enough for only two.”

“You’ve given us more than enough,” Rey said, accepting Hux’s offer without further protest. She tied the carcass to her saddle and finished it off with a firm knot, watching the heavens with a concerned expression. “We’d best be heading off,” she declared as she mounted her roan.

Finn did the same. _“God spede_ on your journey. I hope that you both are successful in getting what you need.”

_“God spede,”_ Hux replied. He shifted the rope that had bound the hare into his left hand, looping it into a series of neat coils as Rey and Finn took off. No sooner had the sounds of their horses’ hooves disappeared in the distance than he turned on Ben with undisguised fury.

“I should be grateful that you even had the ability to build us a fire!” Hux roared at Ben’s mulish expression. “Mos Espa?! Do you know what would have happened, if they had taken you there? Be glad that they were scrupulous enough to turn down your request, lest you be parted from everything you hold dear!”

“I would have managed well enough on my own,” Ben spat. “I have no need for your, or anyone else’s, assistance.”

“You are a braggart and an imbecile—surely the worst combination, as you have little idea as to the degree of your ridiculous behaviour. Do you realise that you had just asked two complete strangers to do exactly that?”

“Let me go, then! Why did you agree to this, anyway? It’s obvious you couldn’t care less about me or love or marriage!” Ben’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Or is being a noble so important to you that you’d whore yourself out for a mere title?”

“Nobility is a despicable measure of a man’s worth.” Hux stepped forward, standing so close that he could count the number of beauty marks that danced across Ben’s cheeks. “Now watch your tongue, or I will shove something in that lovely mouth of yours that won't be so pleasant.” His derision was quickly replaced by a look of shock as Ben’s hand flew, the flat of his palm landing square against Hux’s cheek and imbuing it with with a red bloom.

The memory of the last time someone had laid a hand on Hux with such impudence filled him with humiliation and anger. He rushed forward, grappling the front of Ben’s mantle, but Ben was surprisingly strong. He pushed back at Hux, who held on to the cloth as the samite gave a sickening tear and they tumbled to the ground.

The frustration of the day—of Hux’s situation, and Ben’s obstinance—caused Hux to welcome the physical conflict. He traded their barbed words for brute force, relishing the pain when Ben’s bare fist made contact with his upper arm, and the sting of his own hand against the broad sweep of Ben’s back. He gripped Ben’s locks, Ben’s grunts and whines spurring him onward as Hux pulled on those ebony tresses, exposing the line of Ben’s throat. Ben was built like a fortress, yet Hux knew exactly where to prod and push. He targeted the sweet spots of Ben’s wrists and knees, his own discomfort a sweet remittance for the purpling of Ben’s milky skin until Ben finally flipped over onto his stomach and howled for mercy.

Hux leaned in. The smell of grass and sweat and the impending rain tickled his nostrils, stirring something primal in his belly as Ben wriggled futilely beneath him.

“Yield,” Hux barked. His tongue flicked out as he tasted the sharpness of copper on his upper lip. He grappled for the rope that had fallen out of his hands when they tussled, then dug the sharp point of his knee against the dip of Ben’s back as he trussed Ben up, binding his wrists and ankles behind him.

“There,” Hux smirked. “Now your situation matches your attitude: less that of a royal, and more of a pig.”

Ben’s eyes flashed angrily as he turned his head. “Then it suits me well. Because now I feel equal to the company that I keep.”

Hux flicked a cool gaze down Ben’s form. The prince’s clothes were in a disarray, the costly fabric dirtied and torn. His face was painted a becoming pink, his hair dampened from his efforts.

“If you continue to act the spoilt brat, then you shall receive a punishment just as fitting." His smile grew as Ben glowered. "I could bend you over my knee and take a switch to your arse. See how the stripe of a birch would paint your bottom’s undoubtedly soft complexion.”

Ben’s brows were drawn so deeply, they met in the center of his face. “I hate you!” he exploded. “You are nothing but a coward whose swaggering grows when your opponent’s been gelded.”

Hux raised an impatient brow. “Your incessant whining is tiresome. You delayed us all day with your antics, and you shall delay us no more.” He reached over to the strip of fabric when hung down from Ben’s collar and tugged, grimacing in satisfaction as it gave way with jagged tear. He wound his hand around the nape of Ben’s neck and tilted it back, then wrapped the swath of fabric around the lower portion of Ben’s jaw until it was wadded inside his pretty mouth.

“Much better,” Hux declared, panting from the considerable effort. He wiped the sweat from his brow, making a moue of distaste. “Things would be much easier, if only you would learn to submit.”

Ben twisted angrily. Hux drank in the unhappy set of Ben’s shoulders, the line of his outstretched neck. The way Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. A niggle of guilt settled into his chest as Ben threw him a look of humiliation and hurt, but Hux tamped that down quickly as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

“You’ve cost us the past half hour with your boorish behaviour,” he rebuked. “We’ll be lucky if our meal is cooked before the storm comes through.

The strip of fabric gagging Ben turned dark from his muffled shouts. Hux turned and began to prepare supper. From the furious look in Ben’s eyes, the lost words were likely better left unknown.

**.~O ⚜O~.**

“I’m going to loosen your bindings. Don’t think of getting mouthy on me, because I’ve grown quite fond of the quiet, and have no qualms about doing what is necessary to establish it again,” Hux warned. He undid the ties around Ben’s legs first, wincing at the sight of skin which had chafed to the point where it was nearly raw, the angry redness visible despite the fact that it was nearly dusk. There was some yarrow nearby; perhaps that and a poultice would help. After all, it wouldn’t do to be saddled with someone who was a born-complainer, and whose body already showed the results of a day’s labour.

Hux brought Ben’s long limbs forward, then sat him up. He hadn’t noted that his hands had been rubbing soothing circles around Ben’s ankles until Ben’s breath hitched. A warmth suffused Hux’s face as he looked up to find Ben staring in wondernment, his face unguarded and yearning.

Hux quickly shifted, then untied the gag. His thumb swiped accidentally over Ben’s lower lip as Ben licked along the edges of his visibly parched mouth. The tip of his tongue caught the side of Hux’s thumb, the rough, wet feel of it sending a shockingly erotic charge through Hux’s groin and the end of his prick.

Hux stepped back quickly. “You need to control your temper. It was your struggle against the ropes that caused this,” Hux said roughly.

“I wouldn’t have had to struggle if you would just let me be.” Hux didn’t know whether it was the strain of the shouting or the weariness of the day, but Ben’s voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do, and you’re wrong,” Hux said flatly, without further elaboration.

“Then I have to do what I need to as well,” Ben croaked.

Hux’s fingers hovered above the knots that bound Ben’s wrists behind him. “So be it,” he said, slipping his trusty dagger out from under his sleeve. He focused on Ben’s surcoat and shirt, slashing at the fabric until it was rendered into quarter-pieces, exposing the simple black tunic underneath. He then gathered the ruined cloth and shoved it into a bag, ignoring Ben’s outraged sputtering as he placed the parcel on the floor of the cart.

“For the remainder of our journey, you belong to me,” Hux declared upon his return, examining the simple, dark colour of Ben’s cotton tunic with satisfaction. “You are no longer His Royal Highness, Ben Organa-Solo, the prince of Alderaan. For the next week, you are stripped of all the trappings of your wealth and title. From this moment forward until we reach Canto Bight, you will be known as Lord Ren—the Viscount of Ren, and my darling betrothed.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_*L'autrier jost'una sebissa_** (translation, French, c 12th century)
> 
> Young girl of noble condition  
> Your father was a knight  
> Who got your mother with child  
> For she was a courtly peasant girl.  
> The more I look at you, the prettier you seem,  
> And by your joy I am gladdened,  
> If only toward me you were more human!
> 
> **_**Anonymous Song_** (Spain, c. 1400)


	3. Confessionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here.” Ren took Hux’s hand, turning it upward and placing something small and cool into his palm. Hux stared at the locket resting against his skin. It was surprisingly unadorned, save for an etching of the Organa-Solo coat of arms. His thumb brushed against a small hinged clasp at the side, where the metal showed evidence of wear.
> 
> “Go ahead,” Ren urged as Hux pushed on the clasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for mild blood and violence.

* * *

By the time dawn painted the landscape with the blush of a new day, Hux was feeling decidedly more agreeable.

“Mmm.” He buried his nose within the curtain of hair that tickled his face, its soft strands carrying the hint of sandalwood and cloves as he nearly purred. Encouraged by the muzziness of the morning and the shapely flesh that was pressed against his stiffening cock, he drove his hips forward—a gentle roll at first, followed by another that was increasingly urgent. A soft groan sounded in response, its rumbling baritone startlingly familiar. . .

“God’s bones,” Hux swore. His eyes flew open as the person who was nestled in his arms came swiftly into focus. Hux’s face twisted at the sight: at the thick, ebony mane; the strong, Romanesque nose; the pale, soft cheeks; and the sumptuous, red lips, which looked surprisingly sweet when tempered by the quiet of the morn.

He extricated himself from Ren’s side as quietly as possible then hurried out of the tent. Even the splash of water from the bucket that had sat overnight was of no help, the frigid temperature doing little to cool his overheated pulse or deflate his inconvenient erection.

The prince had proven more challenging than Hux had thought. Granted, the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours would have been trying even for someone possessed of a more even temperament. The loss of one’s title, the acquisition of an unwanted fiancé, and the destruction of one’s dignity would be enough to make the strongest man weep.

Still, Ren remained obstinately disagreeable—almost admirably so. He had refused supper, sitting in stony silence while Hux roasted the hare to a gamey perfection, its drippings sizzling temptingly into the woodsmoke. He watched, immovable, as Hux picked his portion of the carcass clean. He remained committed to his foolish stubbornness, ignoring Hux’s olive branch of hazelnuts and honey until Hux was filled with such a strange mixture of veneration and loathing that he had thrown away the remainder of their supper in a fit of pique.

The entire night consisted of a war of wills which Hux had won only after the moon crossed the earth and Ren had succumbed to her charms. Even as Ren’s breath settled, the years of war had made Hux wary. After scouring the cart unsuccessfully for a suitable restraint, he decided to keep Ren close. A shared bedroll and a blanket meant Hux would be aware of Ren’s every move. It would also signal a temporary truce—not to mention, the added benefit of safety and warmth.

But the situation had left Hux unusually unsettled. He remained awake more than not, and not because Ren was a light or fitful sleeper. In fact, the prince had slumbered deeply; it was as if the unrestrained energy of the day had dissipated, leaving in its wake a man who was finally at peace. Unfortunately, the man also had a backside that could test the patience and morals of a saint, neither of which Hux possessed in great measure.

Perhaps a training session with a Pell would clear his head. Hux pulled a clean tunic out of his bag, along with his leather stockings and hose. He changed quickly, his body adjusting to the well-worn material like a long-lost lover, finding comfort in its softness and the smell of lye and white clay. His fingers, so previously assured, hesitated once he reached his purse. A sigh escaped him at its weight—it was too light, but perhaps with some inspired planning, they could make do with their limited funds until they reached Canto Bight.

He had just finished looping the tie around his waist when the flap of the tent opened. Hux dropped the pouch and moved it near his hip, but not before Ren noticed.

“Thinking about how much heavier it will be once we are wed?” Ren asked dully.

The heat crept up Hux’s face. “No. I know of an inn where we may rest; one where the prospect of a decent meal and a warm bed won’t cost us our lives. If we ride hard, we should be able to reach the village of Chandrila by this evening.” He let out a sigh, deciding to be honest. “I was just making sure I had enough to pay for it.” He looked up, watching as Ren’s expression softened, though his eyes remained wary.

“That sounds nice,” Ren declared. He turned towards the cart laden with his chests, then hesitated. “Why didn’t you ask my parents for money, if you had so little?”

“I have enough. As long as we don’t spend it on anything frivolous.”

“Hmmm.” Ben remained with his back turned, but the answer seemed satisfactory. He removed the oil-coated leather which covered the cart, the small puddles of rainwater which had collected overnight sliding off the material in sheets. He lifted the bundled remnants of his fine travelling cloak as a flash of anger crossed his face.

Hux’s expression went rigid. “I would rather move forward. But if you’d like, I could recount the reasons why your clothing ended up at the bottom of a cart instead of on your body.”

“That is unnecessary. I remember quite well without it,” Ren replied, holding up his chafed wrists.

Hux turned away, refusing to be baited. If Ren wanted a reason as to why he was punished for his insolence, he would give it, but he wouldn’t be blamed for it. He sat down and picked up his sword, inspecting it for rust. He grew lost in the ritual, the whisper of waxy cloth on scratched metal punctuated only by the clattering wings of the woodpigeons. When he finally finished, he looked up, only to find Ren watching him intently.

Ren’s gaze was intriguing. There was a visible longing that the prince could not hide, though it was quickly replaced by a supercilious smirk.

“You must have an excessive amount of time on your hands to care for your weapons yourself,” Ren said, bringing his hand to his mouth in a visible yawn. “I, of course, have an entire staff of pages and squires and metalsmiths to assist me with such menial labour.”

“It is not surprising that you would require the assistance of others to manage your equipment,” Hux retorted. “How wonderful it must be, to go through life without ever experiencing the satisfaction of accomplishing something—however small—on your own merit. And how equally unfortunate for me that I must rely on my own skills. Especially during the heat of battle, where such complacent incompetence is a luxury I’d rather do without.”

“I had no idea that being ‘competent’ also meant being an arse.”

“Competence means survival,” Hux hissed. God give him strength; the morning had barely started, yet Ren’s fustilarian ways were already pulling at the threads of his control.

“I don’t want to just _survive,”_ Ren pouted. “There should be a purpose to living.”

“Says the gadabout who at twenty-two has an entire closet filled with French silks, an entourage of bootlickers, and the wrath of his parents with little else to show for it.” Hux met Ren’s eyes; eventually, it was Ren who looked away.

“I’m starving. I suppose breakfast would be too much to hope for?” Ren asked, as he toed the ground.

“Chandrila is nearly thirty miles away. With the amount of riding required, it is a necessity. But unless you feel comfortable preparing something, you will have to wait. You’ve delayed my practise long enough, and I need to clear my head.”

“May I watch? I don’t fancy staying up here by myself. It’s boring.”

“Then make yourself useful, for once,” Hux snapped, his patience dissipating with the last of the morning fog. “Prepare our horses; gather our belongings; fetch wood for the campfire, if you don’t have the skills for anything else. Trust me—you’ll _want_ me to have this time alone. Yesterday was just a teaser of how ornery I can get when saddled with only three hours of rest and a whining child.”

Ren crossed his arm across his chest and sat down on a boulder as he let out a resigned huff. Hux began his descent to the river, acutely aware of Ren’s gaze burning into his back.

Thankfully, Ren drifted further from his mind as Hux neared the river’s edge. The remnants of a sapling greeted him. The top was felled but its roots still secure in the ground, while its height and circumference made for a natural Pell. He sheathed his sword as he searched the litterfall, checking for larger branches until he found one that was to his satisfaction.

Hux spun around and thrust the makeshift sword against the trunk of the sapling, smiling in satisfaction at the resounding _thwack_ that echoed upon contact. The force travelled up his arm and reverberated throughout his body, making him feel alive. He enjoyed fighting; he might not have the brute strength of others, but he was always quick on his feet, and the physicality of warfare made him strong in a way that belied his slender physique.

Next, he scooped some silt from the riverbed and marked the post with his bare hand, dividing the wood into four quadrants. He picked up his practice sword and placed the wet earth on its tip, while familiarising himself with the girth and heft of it in his hand. His mind settle almost immediately; there was something uniquely intimate about the ritual of a practise, and a part of him thrilled at the challenge. Not only for bettering his skills, but for testing his limits. Besting himself.

The sword sliced through the air, accurately hitting its mark. Hux pivoted, then repeated the manoeuvre, the streak of clay slashing an even line to the right square. He moved back and forth—up, down, right, left—hitting his marks from all directions over the next half hour, the lines of his attacks growing thicker but always straight and true.

He felt his frustrations dwindle as time passed, his focus sharpened and resolve renewed. An eagerness bloomed as he thought of the prince—of channelling Ren’s unruly temperament and shrewish behaviour into something more constructive. Of seeing him submit to Hux’s demands and admit his familial duties.

The exercises forced him to remember his own purpose, as well. Memories of strong arms and a lush arse faded, replaced by the prospects of stability and promotion. Pretty men, willing mouths, and eager holes were always available for a thorough fucking, especially when one was blessed with power and coin. Hux could sate his needs once he delivered an acquiescent prince. There would be time to celebrate his success—of triumph over adversity, necessity over frivolity, logic over sentiment, and pragmatism over nonsense such as love.

A light breeze blew the fine hairs which had fallen across his forehead, cooling the line of his sweat. He stretched before making his way up the hill, his newly invigorated steps quickening at the thought of spending the night in the comfort of a bed. When he approached their camp, however, he noted Ren rummaging through their supplies. His heart thudded in a way that had little to do with his recent exertions.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hux snarled, his legs bounding up the incline to bridge the remaining distance as his hand clamped around Ren’s bicep.

Ren turned, his eyes wide. Hux wondered if that was to be a perpetual reaction to his presence—as if Ren were constantly astonished by Hux’s demands, or his refusal to bend to Ren’s whims. Or perhaps it was just Hux’s mere presence, and the responsibility that came with it, that set Ren’s teeth on edge.

“I. . .I was hungry,” he explained. The redness crept up his face as he lowered his lashes. “I haven’t eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours.”

“Men have gone hungry for much longer than that.” Hux was ready with the reminder that Ren had only himself to blame for his predicament, when Ren silenced his rebuke by pulling out two plates.

Hux stared at the large cut of Manchet, its thick crust a golden brown and covered with a glaze of honey, which sat next to a lopsided wedge of farmer’s cheese.

“I didn’t want to bother you during your practise. And I was feeling a bit faint; I’m not used to riding so long, without adequate rest, or a decent place to sleep.” Ren hesitated, his internal debate carried out in his unguarded expression. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

Hux let the apology simmer between them until Ren squirmed uncomfortably. “Apology accepted,” he said eventually, taking the proffered plate. He settled on the ledge of the cart several feet from Ren and began to eat. The sweetness of the honey lay thick on his tongue, and he watched the sun continue its ascent up the horizon as he sat with Ren in a companionable, if careful, silence.

**.~O⚜O~.**

“That’s disgusting.”

Hux pursed his lips, the thin wisp of grey smoke curling around his nose. “So is your presumptive nature.” He gestured at the expanse around them; the autumn sun was hot once more, and despite the fact that they were several miles away from the wetlands, the smell of cordgrass was notable in the air. “It’s no worse than nature’s perfumes. Besides, it helps me think. If it bothers you so much, there’s no reason you need to stand so closely”

Instead of moving farther away, Ren edged nearer. “What is it?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Tobacco. I was introduced to it while in Toledo.” Hux shut his mouth, reluctant to continue. The memories of his years in Spain—the loneliness, the harsh lessons learned and, not the least, the reason why he was there in the first place—were things he’d prefer not to revisit. “Apparently, I’ve never grown tired of the habit.”

“May I try?” Ren asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

Hux hesitated; tobacco was one the few extravagances he allowed himself to indulge in, and he was disinclined to share. But Ren had been surprisingly agreeable during their ride, although he was still prone to bouts of meaningless and affected chatter, and Hux found himself granting the request as a small boon of goodwill. “Place the tip of it in your mouth. Suckle slowly...” His eyes widened as Ren proceeded to ignore the advice, the prince’s thick lips closing around a good portion of the stick as he inhaled forcefully.

The colour in Ren’s face turned an ashen-yellow, his chest heaving as he promptly choked. “‘Tis nothing that is fit for consumption. It is as loathsome as its stench suggests,” he declared, handing the tobacco and its wrappings back to Hux.

“Only because you have neither the patience nor control to listen to what you’re being told. There is a beauty in the strength of will. Perhaps you’ll remember that next time when you’re inclined to act without a second thought,” Hux responded, unable to hide his smirk.

Pliny whinnied, tilting his head towards Hux in entreaty. Hux ashed the end of his smoke and walked over, rubbing the destrier soothingly along his neck. “Soon, boy” he murmured, patting his flank reassuringly before making his way to the end of the cart. He withdrew his bow and arrows then gathered a coil of rope, sheathing his baselard before returning to the spot where Ren stood, watching and waiting.

“Hands behind your back,” Hux said, readying the rope.

Ren’s eyes widened alarmingly. “My hands have suffered enough. Besides, we’re in the middle of nowhere, and I’ve learned my lesson. I promise not to run.”

Hux shook his head. “Trust is not a commodity I grant easily. Furthermore, you’ve shown me nothing to earn it thus far. I need to hunt for our dinner, and I don’t fancy any further delays due to your ill-judgment. You’ve not eaten anything of substance, and our horses need the rest.”

“If my word is not good enough, perhaps I can give you a token of my promise instead.”

Hux’s curiosity got the better of him. “What kind of token?” he asked slowly.

“It is the most important thing I own.” Ren bit his lip. “It’s in my trunk. If I may?”

Hux nodded his assent. There was something that niggled at Hux as he watched Ren make his way to an oddly-shaped chest, one which was flat and long. He was a strange mix; a puzzling contradiction. He portrayed a softness at times—in his face, and in the way his laughter bubbled, simpering and devoid of any meaning. But there was also something powerful simmering underneath—in the sheer size of his body, those slips of his temper, and in the way he had fought Hux yesterday, so fiercely and brilliantly.

Ren loosened the straps which bound the chest, the buckles clinking against the sides as he opened the lock. Hux restrained himself from tilting forward eagerly. He would find out more, if necessary.

Ren pulled something out of a small, velvet bag. He stilled, the line of his shoulders not shifting from the plane of the earth for so long that Hux would have worried if not for the rise and fall of Ren’s chest. When Hux thought he could bear it no longer, Ren finally turned around, his face somber.

“Here.” Ren took Hux’s hand, turning it upward and placing something small and cool into his palm. Hux stared at the locket resting against his skin. It was surprisingly unadorned, save for an etching of the Organa-Solo coat of arms. His thumb brushed against a small hinged clasp at the side, where the metal showed evidence of wear.

“Go ahead,” Ren urged as Hux pushed on the clasp.

The miniature painting inside swung into view, the faded colours washing out further from the bright sun. Ren couldn’t have been older than three or four in the picture. He was sitting on a settee with his parents, dressed not in the ceremonial clothing typical of portraitures, but in traditional Alderaanian garb. The King and Queen each had a hand on Ren’s shoulders, and in his chubby fists, he clutched a small, cloth, cat-like doll.

The royal family looked happy. It was certainly different from Hux’s upbringing, yet there was something painfully wistful in Ren’s expression as he looked at the portrait from over Hux’s shoulder.

Hux swallowed. “Nice doll,” he remarked as he turned. He searched Ren’s eyes to reassure him of his sincerity. “I never had one.”

_“Tooka._ That’s what I named him,” Ren explained with a sad smile. “There was a group of performers that travelled through Alderaan each spring. One year, they brought exotic animals after a trip to the royal Cours Plénières—monkeys, bears, and lions, to name a few.

“My favourite was the tiger. The way he moved. . .the sharpness of his teeth, the intensity of his gaze. I had never seen an animal so _powerful_ before. Yet there he was, forced to bare his glory for the pleasure of mere humans, whom he could kill with a well-timed swipe of his gigantic paws. It was the first time that I. . .” Ren stopped, his chin wavering as he looked out into the distance. Perhaps it was his unadorned clothing or his image in the portrait, but he looked vulnerable and childlike in that instant. “Anyway. Father and Mother had the palace seamstresses make the doll in the tiger’s image. It was my favourite thing for years; there was not a day that it was out of my arms, until it fell apart.”

The admission was momentous. Guilt washed through Hux as the locket lay heavy in his hand. Ren had shared a part of him which was meant for his intended. Not for a caretaker, and certainly not a mercenary who could use such a confession to mold Ren’s behaviour.

“Thank you.” Hux placed the locket in his purse and drew the cord tight. His casual manipulation made him uneasy, and he needed to put some distance between them. “Please water and feed our horses in the meantime. You shall have your locket upon my return.”

Ren nodded, trudging back to the cart to retrieve the bucket. Hux started down the path, the peaty soil collecting on the soles of his boots. He didn’t stray too far from the road. The relative proximity to the marshland meant there should be an abundance of fowl, fattened for the migration. If that failed, he was sure the neighbouring meadows would be ripe with hare and small species of deer, a savoury prospect in either case.

Lost in his thoughts, Hux only noticed the tranquility of the songbirds, the rustling of the leaves, and the sound of his boots on the dirt trail until Pliny’s distressed _neigh_ rang through the air.

“God’s blood!” He should have known better than to trust Ren’s word when his future was at stake. Hux turned and ran back towards the camp, his heart pumping furiously. Anger roiled through him, hot and liquid as his quickening footsteps echoed in his ears. The sound of both horses crying and their stamping hooves added to the din. If Ren had thought to abscond with their transport and supplies…

The clanging of metal rang through the air, its echo filling Hux with a growing sense of dread. The line of trees bobbed in concert as he ran faster until the distance to the hilltop was swallowed in his lengthy strides, his fury morphing into confusion and awe upon his arrival.

Ren was surrounded by three brigands, a magnificent longsword in his hand. He wheeled around as one of the highwaymen lunged, swinging the inferior falchion as if it were an axe. The curved blade fell short of its mark as Ren sidestepped it gracefully, his own sword’s nearly four-foot blade glinting menacingly in the sun. It was a movement filled with a speed and power that belonged to only the most skilled and revered of knights. Hux watched, momentarily mesmerised by the quickness and accuracy of Ren’s singing blade. It wasn’t until a second figure rushed towards Ren that Hux was finally spurred into action.

Ren snapped the back of his elbow against the side of his closest attacker’s face, causing the bridge of his nose to collapse with a sickening crunch as Ren followed it with a blow to the back of the head with the end of his pommel. The momentum caused him to stumble sideways as his victim collapsed, an opportunity which one of the two remaining highwaymen seized as he ran the tip of his short sword into Ren’s flank, the cotton covering staining an ominous crimson.

“Fuck.” Hux moved, propelled by a protectiveness that flared from deep within his belly. He notched an arrow as his eyes swept the scene, calculating the risks. Though he had excelled at close-quarters combat, he did not trust his skill with a bow when one of the assailants was nearly indistinguishable from Ren.

A quick movement to Ren’s left deflected Hux’s attention. The last highwayman was running towards the cart, a dishonourable action whether in search of protection or loot. Hux turned, leaning forward and pressing his body into the horns of the bow until the yew yielded. He let instinct take over as his mind cleared, the muscles in his back tensing then loosening as the arrow flew.

His mark ran true as the thief’s agonising wail caused both Ren and his opponent to startle. Hux dropped the bow, grabbing his basilard and charging while Ren took advantage of the distraction to go on the offensive, his teeth gritting as the bite of his blade forced the falchion from the robber’s hand.

Ren staggered to his feet, one hand clutching at his side as the blood continued to seep.

“Do it!” Hux hissed, gripping his dagger. He had reached them, the remaining brigand now within striking distance. He could kill with a well-placed strike, but this was the prince’s fight. “Finish him off!”

Ren stood, his face going through a gamut of emotions as the rest of his body remained immovable. The other man snarled, his right hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dirty utility knife, its blade jagged and coarse but no less menacing.

Unlike the crossbow, Hux was confident with his skills with a dagger; there was something about the speed and quick turnabout of the blade that appealed to his most primal nature. He lunged, but his opponent was surprisingly swift despite his brutish size. Hux felt the prickling of danger and excitement, his nostrils flaring as the bandit intercepted his blade with his own, the sweep of the movement carrying the tip away from an otherwise deadly strike.

Hux ducked as the utility knife plunged towards him from overhead, the glint of the metal the only warning he received as it whizzed by his ear, the hairs of his neck standing on end from its nearness. He took advantage of the forward momentum of his opponent to readjust his stance, flipping the dagger so that the handle no longer lay between his forefinger and his thumb, but within the tightness of his fist. The other man whirled and thrust. It was desperate and off-kilter and much too predictable, and Hux blocked it easily.

The bandit hurriedly switched the knife from his right hand to his left, but Hux was ready as he grappled the other man’s wrist with his empty hand, his fingers tightening mercilessly as he pulled him for the killing blow. He grimaced in satisfaction as the tip of his dagger ran true, penetrating the layers of fabric to sink between the man’s ribs. The blade tore through flesh and sinew, nicking the brittle bone until there was a whoosh of air, which was soon replaced by the sounds of agonised gurgling.

Hux twisted the dagger viciously as the man sank to the ground. He watched as his victim gasped, the blood bubbling from his mouth until his face turned blue and he was silent once more.

Hux nudged the corpse with the front of his boot as he pulled out his dagger. “Why didn’t you finish the job when you had the chance?”

“I’ve never killed a man before,” Ren replied, his voice faint.

Hux took a look at the remaining survivor who was grunting, his breaths coming out in slow and uneven huffs. It was unlikely that he would survive the blow to the head which Ren had inflicted, but Hux refused to deal with an already difficult royal in the midst of a moral crisis. He bent down and twisted the man’s neck, in an act of mercy to both the victim and his attacker.

“Well, it appears that you ended the day in the same way you started it,” Hux said, wiping off his blade. He frowned as much of the blood remained, and swiped it once more against the dead man’s pocket.

Suddenly, the lining gave way, spilling forth a purse that was obviously heavy with loot. He and Ren watched as its swollen form hit the ground, clinking loudly.

Hux reached for it. There must be enough to last them through the end of the week, fed and housed in style.

“What are you doing?”

Hux stood, his eyes narrowing at Ren’s judgmental expression. “You may not realise, having grown up never knowing what it means to be cold and hungry. But in the real world, one needs currency to survive.” He swept an arm along the ground that was littered with bodies. “It is of no use to them anyway.”

“I want no part of it,” Ren repeated, looking slightly ill.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We still have nearly four days of travel. I won’t use it if the money we have is sufficient, but I won’t be so foolish as to discard it just because your heart has gone soft for a group of highwaymen who attempted to slaughter you in the most cowardly fashion.”

Ren made his way towards the tent, causing Hux to stop short. Now that his alarm over the events had started to subside, he began seeing the prince through different eyes. Ren lacked the most basic of social graces, waltzed into strangers and spilt their drinks, and wore clothes that were better suited for the pomp and circumstance of a parade than an arduous journey. Yet despite all this, he faced down three attackers with a mastery and power that Hux had rarely seen.

Ren groaned, his steps suddenly faltering as his legs buckled, his tall body collapsing onto itself.

Hux hurried to Ren’s side, wincing as his hand came away wet and bloody. “I’ll need you out of your tunic to tend to your wound.”

“It is of no use to me now, anyway.” Ren grimaced as he tried to raise his arms overhead, the tacky material resisting his efforts. “Cut it off,” he ordered. “The ground is spinning. Soon, you’ll have more than a piece of uncooperative cloth to contend with.”

“I will get you some food and drink as soon as I’m able,” Hux said, bisecting the tattered cloth with the tip of his dagger. “But we need to tend to this first.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he inspected the wound. It appeared as if the assailant’s weapon had dragged across the surface of Ren’s skin, exposing the muscle but not penetrating his belly to affect the organs beneath.

It was large and still oozing, but its color was healthy and the bleeding not vigorous. “It is a wound to the flesh—and, luckily, to the flesh alone,” Hux proclaimed. He went to the cart to gather some supplies, along with some dandelion and meadowsweet before returning to Ren.

“I’ve no whisky or brandy, so unfortunately this will have to do,” Hux announced, handing Ren a small phial containing a viscous liquid and a piece of willow bark. “It’s similar to theriac. I’ll need to close your wound; trust me, this will make it easier,” Hux explained upon seeing Ren’s questioning stare.

Ren drank the medicine without comment, although he grimaced at its bitterness soon after. He raised a brow when Hux handed him the strip of bark.

“Bite down on this. It will dull your distress—both in voice, and pain.” Hux was not a stranger to the analgesic properties of willow bark, for those many times where he had no one but himself to help relieve the stings of battle.

“Such gifts you bring me. I never knew courting could be so sweet.”

There was a teasing lilt to Ren’s tone that made Hux’s belly flip and his fingers shake. “Bite down,” Hux warned once more as he removed a needle from the pin holder. The sharp prick as it entered the skin caused Ren to hiss, and Hux focused on approximating the edges. Luckily, Ren was young, his skin healthy and strong, and the wound closed neatly, with the exception of a small section which Hux left open for the drainage of bad humours.

Hux knotted the thread, then cut off the string with a flick of his dagger. As he plucked the greens off the dandelion and meadowsweet Ren watched, seemingly distracted from his pain by the sight of Hux grinding the plants with a pestle and mortar. Finally, Hux scooped the paste onto a strip of Ren’s tunic that he’d soaked with water, adding some honey before folding it into a poultice and applying it to the wound.

“Hold this,” Hux said softly. His fingers prodded area surrounding the damaged flesh, moving along the line of muscle.

“Thank you,” Ren said, his voice hoarse.

Hux looked up; Ren’s chest was moving up and down rapidly, yet Hux wasn’t sure it was solely from the pain. “You’re welcome,” he replied gruffly, his breath huffing across the nape of Ren’s neck as he leaned in for a closer inspection. Hux tore off another strip of the cloth and wet it with water, then wound the damp fabric around Ren’s torso, holding the dressing in place. Now that the bleeding was staunched, his eyes were wont to wander across the expanse of pale skin. At Ren’s pebbling nipples, and the skin which grew goose-fleshed despite the afternoon heat.

Something ached inside of Hux. Unable to stop himself, he stroked gently—not for the purpose of healing, but to watch as that great body arched, Ren’s energy thrumming under Hux’s hand like a too-tightly strung bow. Ren leaned in fractionally, his pupils wide, the gold rims of his irises disappearing with his desire. The urge was so very great, to push Ren to the limits. It was as if Ren was an arrow, sitting in Hux’s grasp, tempted to fly.

Hux swallowed, and went back to his ministrations instead.

“Come. Let’s get you clothed and fed. We’ll need to leave within the hour if we wish to reach Chandrila in time for supper.”


	4. Rest and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White-hot anger flooded through Hux. “Is that what you think?” he roared, pushing Ren backwards onto the bed. “Even as I sit here, worried for your condition and tending to your wounds, you imagine another man’s hands on you?”
> 
> Ren’s eyes widened further. “You accuse me falsely!”
> 
> Hux growled, straddling Ren’s thighs as his hand reached down to cup Ren’s balls. “Your sweet denial spills so sweetly from your lips, yet your body betrays you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for some possessive behavior and the use of a derogatory slur

* * *

The village of Chandrila was bustling with activity, but neither the fields ripe with barley and wheat nor the meats on display at the butchery could drag Hux’s eyes from the figure beside him.

The prince slumped, his grip on Vader’s reins loosened. The ominous stain on his tunic did not appear larger or brighter than the previous hour. “Ren. If you need to stop…”

“‘Mfine,” Ren mumbled, sounding anything but.

Hux gritted his teeth at the surly tone; even in a weakened state, Ren managed to infect his denial with a petulance that begged to be wiped from his pouty lips. “Suit yourself,” Hux snapped, praying fervently that he would have enough coin to get properly bladdered.

They stopped at the stables. The young cottar who ran up to greet them eyed Pliny and Vader with a wide-eyed expression.

“Good day, everychon.”

“Good day. I am Mr Hux, and this is my companion, Lord Ren.” Hux eyed the size of stables. They looked to be in good shape, each with enough room for the horses to lie down in, and smelled of clean straw, horse-bread and fresh grass. “We are looking for somewhere to bed our horses for the night.”

“Yea, we can. I am Temiri Blagg. My family runs the stables.”

“I trust you are skilled with a curry combe, Temiri?” Hux asked, smiling as the boy nodded. “And the services of a marshal would not be remiss; we have travelled a long distance, and still have a fair way to go.”

“That would be my da,” the boy said, his thin chest puffing out with pride. “He shoes all the horses in the village. Even the Lady Kanata’s.”

“Excellent.” Hux reached into his purse and pulled out a groat. “Pliny is my most favourite possession. Take good care of him, and you shall be justly rewarded for it.”

“Thank you, Mr Hux. It would be my honour.” The boy’s eyes shone at the coin in his hand, which he shoved eagerly into his small pocket. He looked up at Hux and then at Ren, as if trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

Hux went over to his saddlebags. He removed several small packages containing some medicinal herbs, then bundled together a change of clothes for Ren and himself.

“Will you be staying at the Takodana Inn?” Temiri asked.

“Yes,” Hux answered, tying up the sack and cinching the rope firmly.

“How long will you be staying?”

Hux shrugged. “We had planned on just tonight, but—” His gaze wandered to Ren. The Prince was leaning against the cart, exhaustion and pain writ clearly on his face. “— perhaps it may be better to stay a second.”

“I hope so, my Lord. It is nice to have visitors.” He brushed his hand against the decorations on Pliny’s saddle in wonder.

Hux thought back to when he was the boy’s age. It seemed not long ago that he had felt trapped by his station, and desperate to dispel the monotony of the daily grind. “If we cannot, it is not for the lack of desire or your generous hospitality,” he said gently.

Temiri brought a pail of water to each of the three horses and began to unhook Vader’s bridle. “Well, I hope that you have a restful and safe journey.”

Hux and Ren bid the stable boy good bye, then headed towards the center of the village. Along the way, they passed the dovecote, where the fowl were plump and the eggs, plentiful.

“I thought you said we had little in the way of money,” Ren said quietly, his voice barely heard above the low whirrs and coos. “At least, that was your reason for sharing a room.”

Hux sniffed. “I need no excuse to give. And it is your fault that we find ourselves in this situation. There was enough pelf for two rooms and more if not for your sudden morals.” It still rankled, the thought that Ren refused to use the thieves’ purse, easily double that which Hux owned. Though, unbeknownst to Ren, Hux had taken it for safekeeping, and secreted it away behind a hidden panel in the cart. 

“It is tainted. The last thing it should be used for is our own pleasure.”

“I don’t—” Hux stopped, his temples throbbing. He didn’t understand this side of Ren, the part which refused the use of money which they won from a lot of dishonourable and murderous men. Especially when Ren was infamous for his own wasteful frivolity. “It matters not. Money aside, I need to keep a close eye on you. Because of your wounds,” he clarified.

“Yet you gave the boy a groat, even though you questioned whether we had enough to last us for the duration of the journey.”

“It is not the boy’s fault that he was born into poverty,” Hux hissed.

“No. But not everyone has the ability to see him as the person he is, regardless of his circumstance.”

Hux felt himself bristle. “I think your injuries have addled your head. We’d best get to the inn so we may tend to them and feed your ridiculous appetite.” He hurried forward, ever aware of Ren’s inquisitive stare as it bore into his back. The weight of it made him walk faster, the autumn dust kicking up from under his feet.

**.~O⚜O~.**

An hour later, Hux had exchanged his well-worn clothes for some clean garments, his saddle for a wooden bench, and bread and cheese for a hot meal. His nostrils flared from the fragrance of saffron and pine nuts as the mylate of pork gave way, the piping hot cheese and tender pieces of pork bubbling through the flaky layers. Hux took a generous bite, letting out a happy sigh as the juice and spices exploded on his tongue. It reminded him of the dishes his mother used to pilfer from the kitchen where she worked on special days, a welcome break from their steady diet of bread and gruel.

He cast a sideways glance at Ren, wondering if the meal was worthy of a royal. But Ren was devouring his own dish, his eyelids fluttering with each forkful, speaking of his enjoyment.

Hux felt strangely pleased that Ren seemed content. Ren was undeniably attractive, at least during his quiet, unguarded moments. Hux fisted his hands at his sides, steeling himself against such thoughts, when the tops of his knuckles brushed against something hard in his pocket.

“Oh. I forgot to give you this.” Ren lifted his eyes from his plate as Hux cleared his throat and withdrew the locket. The necklace unspooled from his fingers, spinning softly into the palm of Ren’s hand.

Ren nodded his thanks. He pinched the clasp, the top popping open to reveal the painting. His face softened into something wistful as he closed it and tucked it into a pouch on his belt.

Hux lifted his cup. “You would be safe wearing it here, if you wished. Lady Kanata has remained successfully neutral. The people who live here prefer a simple life free from war instead of one ripe with riches and casualties”

“It is fairly plain as it is and does little to invite thievery. It’s monetary value is not the reason why I choose to keep it away from the public’s eye.” Ren bit his lower lip, the flesh reddening under his teeth. “I saw your expression when I first gave it to you for safekeeping. I have things that are more expensive, t’is true, but this means more to me than just about anything else.”

Hux barely dared to breathe. “How so?”

Ren looked away, his dinner forgotten. “For most of my life, I’ve been just ‘His Royal Highness,’ a symbol of my family’s long-standing legacy.”

“Your family has quite a storied history.”

“As do most in my position; I understand that. But times spent with my mother and father were a rarity, at least moments where I wasn’t dressed up and paraded around as the next Organa-Solo. This portrait was one of the few times where we were not ‘The Royal Family’. Just. . .a family.”

“Your parents have a responsibility to the people they lead. As do you. It is a matter of priorities.”

“Yes, but. . .I grew up often feeling that Mr Daniels was more my parent than my own father,” Ren said, his voice pained.

Hux was eerily still. “At least you had one,” he said finally, muttering into his drink.

Guilt washed over Ren’s face. “I am sorry. Did yours pass?”

“Yes. Thankfully.” Hux stabbed his dish with a vicious satisfaction. This time, however, the pork was dry in his throat, no matter how many times he swallowed.

“What of your mother? Were you close?”

Hux sighed. “Yes.”

“But you say that with bitterness.”

“It is due to her foolish choices.” Hux put down his fork, frowning at the disaster he created of his meal. “I loved her very much. But she gave up her family and fortune for a lout with nothing to offer but sweet kisses and false promises. Love is a fool’s journey, Ren. It is better for you to marry smartly. The lust of youth is a shaky foundation for an alliance in the long run.”

“At least your mother had the courage to follow her heart.”

“It was a rash and imprudent mistake.”

“But one that was hers to make.”

Hux’s lips drew up in a familiar sneer. “And what of its impact on an innocent boy? I had no choice in the matter, yet suffered the consequences as much as she. Our decisions are like the waters in a pond: a stone’s point of entry inevitably leaves ripples in its wake. It is something that my mother, God rest her soul, forgot.”

Ren, thankfully, did not press the issue further. They sat in silence, the bustle surrounding them growing thicker as their discomfort grew. Hux pushed the remainder of his dinner aside, his mood suddenly soured. The lack of sleep, along with the physical exhaustion of their skirmish and travel, made him long for the comfort of his bed. Perhaps he could convince Ren to turn in before curfew. . .

“Hail fellow, well met.” The bench creaked as someone took the seat to Ren’s left. “And to you, good Sir,” he added to Hux.

Hux greeted the newcomer with a curt nod. He was young—perhaps no older than twenty-five. He was a large man, although not overly so, and the informality of his posture, blackened nails, and open expression suggested someone who was more accustomed to labour.

“Good evening,” Ren replied, looking at the man curiously.

“Reeve Lambelin. My father and I are the blacksmiths for the village.”

Ren gave him a genuine smile. “I am Lord Ren. And this is my travelling companion, Mister Hux.”

Hux grunted in greeting, not wishing to encourage the conversation further. Unfortunately, Lambelin appeared oblivious to the suggestion.

“Are you here for the Harvest Festival this weekend, my Lords?”

“Unfortunately, no. We are journeying through, on our way to Canto Bight.”

“Ah, that is a shame. The festival happens to be my favourite. We have been blessed with a large harvest this year, and there will be plenty of music and jousting. Though it is not at the level which you may be accustomed to in the larger cities, the contests promise to keep me quite busy.”

Ren leaned forward. “How so?”

“Coming from a peaceable village, most of my day is spent making light fittings or small household items. I am good at what I do, but—”

“You would rather be making other things,” Ren finished.

“Exactly,” Lambert grinned. “I have a fondness for weapons-making: shields, armour, lances. But my favourite is swords making.” He leant in, his voice impassioned as Ren also moved closer. “The metal in this region is as fine as that in Toledo or the Orient. Despite its light weight, it is incredibly strong. The sharpness of the blades I fashion can rend a piece of satin in two, and their heft suits those who value agility over brute force.”

Hux snorted, muttering under his breath. “Some things are best savoured and not rushed.”

Ren kept his gaze latched firmly on Lambelin as his face brimmed with excitement. “Swords are a passion of mine.”

Lambelin’s piercing blue eyes raked over Ren’s form. He grabbed Ren’s hand, stroking the palm and turning it over. “How curious. The softness of your skin suggests a life of leisure. But the strength of your grip and the pattern of calluses are familiar to those who wield a blade with regularity.” He lowered Ren’s hand, but did not let go. “Are you a knight, my Lord?”

“Not a knight, but a man who enjoys a playing with a sword in hand.” Ren blushed as Hux growled at the deliberate flirtation.

“Is that so?” Lambelin asked, leering.

Ren winced as Hux kicked him under the table. “Was it a long and difficult apprenticeship?

“I can’t imagine doing anything else. I started learning from my father as soon as I could safely hold my tongs. And with regards to the length of the apprenticeship, I would say that smithing, like any other skilled profession, involves a lifetime of learning.” Lambelin caressed the back of Ren’s hand as he spoke, the movement growing more familiar as the pink in Ren’s face deepened. “I am quite talented at controlling the temperature of the furnaces with only the use of a tube. Though many blacksmiths choose to rely on their bellows, I enjoy controlling my breath while using my mouth—”

“All right,” Hux snarled, pushing the bench back violently as he stood. He grabbed onto Ren’s right arm and hauled him up, the colour draining from Ren’s face as he looked at Hux in shock. “My apologies. But we’ve had a long day, and our horses are not the only ones that require their rest.”

“But we haven’t finished our supper,” Ren protested.

Hux’s grip grew tighter. “We’ve finished enough.”

“I am sorry,” Ren apologised to Lambelin. “If we are still here tomorrow, perhaps you can show me some of the weapons you have been fashioning?”

“I would like that very much, Lord Ren,” Lambelin said. He stood as well, and brought the back of Ren’s hand to his lips.

Hux threw down several coins onto the table then made for the stairs, dragging Ren alongside him as if he were an unruly child. Once they had reached their room, Hux could feel the energy coiling angrily inside his chest.

He slammed the door with so great a force that it sounded thunderous despite the din. “Sit,” he barked, the order coming out much too sharp.

“Was it not enough to embarrass me in front of Lambelin, that you now have to order me about as if I were a mere dog?” Ren seethed.

“Your pitiful flirtation was an embarrassment on its own. Did you think it appropriate to disgrace me—your husband-to-be—in such a manner?”

“I. . .” Guilt washed over Ren’s face. “That was never my intention.”

Hux refused to be swayed by Ren’s look of contrition. “You are unaware and self-indulgent. You are to be the King of Alderaan. You need to be aware of the import of your actions. You will be called upon to make decisions which require you to think critically and look beyond yourself.”

“And what of empathy? Surely those are important in decision-making as well.”

“I hope you are not equating that terrible display of coquetry to compassion,” Hux said, exchanging his tunic for a nightshirt. “And yes; empathy is helpful, but you cannot allow your emotions to overrule your final decision.” He gestured towards the bed, unable to hide his irritation. “I had asked you to sit. It is time to look at your wound.”

The reason seemed to mollify Ren. He complied, the muscles of his body rippling as he stripped off all his clothing and sat.

Hux tried to maintain a cool exterior, but despite the facade, he felt the tips of his ears heating at the gorgeous show of smoothly-muscled flesh. For not the first time, he wondered how Ren could possess such power and skill while leading a life of wasteful leisure. Given his abilities with a horse and sword, the Prince should be heralded not as a wastrel, but as the champion of every hastilude. With his birthright and prowess, he should have been groomed to lead the Royal Army.

The thought of Ren’s squandered potential when all the ingredients for success were laid at his feet, filled Hux with a terrible bitterness. He shook his head as he removed Ren’s dressings, ignoring Ren’s painful hiss as the rough cloth rubbed over the fresh stitches.

Hux removed a tiny glass phial from his bag. He added three drops to a cup of water and handed it to Ren. “Drink. It will dull the pain and give you some much needed sleep.”

“What is it?” Ren asked, eyeing the concoction suspiciously.

“Mandrake root. I was able to procure some from the proprietor. She assured me that it was properly harvested, and prepared according to standard.”

Ren glared at the cup then tilted it back, consuming the entirety of its contents in one long swallow. “You are always giving me terrible things to try,” he remarked, grimacing at the aftertaste.

_“You_ asked to try the tobacco,” Hux corrected. “I would have been happier not to share it. And you won’t mind the taste of the root in another minute, if its effects are as potent as she’d professed.”

True to Hux’s word, the tension soon left Ren’s body. Hux inspected the wound, pleased to see that the edges were less red and that the oozing had subsided. He set to clean Ren’s skin using a damp cloth.

“I believe you will survive,” he smiled faintly as Ren hummed his agreement. “I need you to answer honestly. We have over thirty-five miles left to travel. Whether we make this distance in one day or two will depend on how well you are feeling.”

“If we leave tomorrow, will there be another inn?”

Hux shook his head. “No.” Everything was either too far out of the way, or could not be guaranteed to provide a safe lodging.

“Then I would prefer to stay at Takodana another day,” Ren declared. His words began to slur as he looked up at Hux with a sly grin. “I miss the comfort of a bed, even if I have to share one with someone as surly as you.”

Hux’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Hmmph. This, coming from someone who insists on treating me as his personal blanket.”

“The nights have been cold,” Ren countered, his shoulders shaking with mirth. The effort was costly, however, because he soon gasped, his eyes squeezed tight with pain.

Hux snorted as he rubbed slow circles along Ren’s flank. “Mayhaps it would be better to stay another day,” he mused. “You are obviously not well enough for a long journey.”

“Good. I’d like to see more of the village, if you are willing.” They sat quietly, the noise of the patrons below a muted backdrop as Hux continued to brush his fingers against Ren’s heated skin. Ren remained so quiet, in fact, that Hux would have thought him asleep if not for his upright position. The flat of Hux’s palm roved over the hardness of Ren’s chest and the jutting lines of his collarbone, the friction of skin on skin damning in the stillness,

Ren’s question cut through the silence.

“Do you think he liked me?”

Hux’s fingers dug in, hard enough to bruise. “What?” he croaked.

“Lambelin. Do you think he liked me?”

Hux turned in disbelief. His gaze grew sharp as he stared at Ren, noting for the first time the wideness of his pupils and the flushing of his skin. Hux had thought it the result of the mandrake but as his gaze dropped, there was no mistaking the meaning behind the fat shape of Ren’s cock as it stirred against his leg.

White-hot anger flooded through Hux. “Is that what you think?” he roared, pushing Ren backwards onto the bed. “Even as I sit here, worried for your condition and tending to your wounds, you imagine another man’s hands on you?”

Ren’s eyes widened further. “You accuse me falsely!”

Hux growled, straddling Ren’s thighs as his hand reached down to cup Ren’s balls. “Your sweet denial spills so sweetly from your lips, yet your body betrays you.”

“And your cruel accusation carries a hypocrite’s truth,” Ren sneered, looking down at the tented fabric of Hux’s gown, “for the state of your prick is no less damning. You profess to despise me and brand me culpable of adulterous thoughts, yet your body craves what your mind won’t allow it to!”

The seed of truth made Hux’s temper flare as if fanned by a thousand bellows. “And what of it? I am a man, as red-blooded as the next. It is only natural to be tempted when you pout and preen, displaying your wares like a common slattern for anyone who returns your smiles.”

“I hate you!” Ren spat. He struggled, his larger arms wrapping themselves around Hux’s back as they grappled, the bed frame creaking dangerously beneath them. “You are arrogant and spiteful, and treat me as little more than a child!”

Though Ren was larger, the combination of the mandrake potion and Hux’s position gave him a physical advantage. He dug his knee into the softness of Ren’s thigh, moving swiftly as Ren yelped in surprise. “I treat you as you show yourself,” Hux said grimly, drawing Ren’s arms up and overhead.

“Lambelin didn’t treat me as one.” Ren bucked his hips in frustration, the movement causing the tip of his cock to brush against Hux’s belly. He tilted his head to the side, the curves of his cheeks colouring with his embarrassment as he let out a soft whine.

_Oh._ Hux slid off after Ren stilled, the loss of warmth unsettling as he snuffed out the light. It was near a full moon, and the planes of Ren’s face were visible despite the shadows. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing arousal to settle. “I see.”

“I don’t believe you do.” They lay there, the thick silence swelling. When Ren finally spoke, Hux heard the tremor in his voice. “I know you are curious as to how I learned to wield a sword. I could see the question in your eyes, ever since we were beset by the bandits.”

Hux lay quiet. It was a statement, not a question, and one that didn’t bear correction.

Ren let out a long sigh; Hux could imagine his long lashes lowering, nearly brushing his cheek. “I am a gifted duelist. I say this not to boast, but as fact. My skills were apparent, even as a child. It became another part of me that people coveted. I had heard the talk, of how my talents would lead our kingdom and my family’s name to even greater glory.

“I rebelled in a way that made sense to a thirteen-year old. I became everything they’d feared I would be: lazy, wasteful, and shallow.”

Hux remembered the naked want in Ren’s face when watching Hux clean his sword at the beginning of their journey. “You must have kept up with your training, though. The way you had fought those highwaymen. . .it was not the action of a novice.”

“Yes.” A sadness suffused Ren’s words. “My uncle, the former Duke of Tatooine, had agreed to teach me in secret. He was a war hero, but the years of battle had left him scarred. Whereas my mother revelled in her role as a leader, the weight of responsibility caused him to retreat, and he relinquished his right to the throne to her. Our lessons were beneficial to us both. They allowed me to drop all pretense, for the briefest period of time. And for my uncle, it helped retain ties to his family, however thin.”

“No one else knows of your talents? Not even your parents?”

A painful noise left Ren’s throat as he nodded. “Only my uncle. And now, you.”

Hux tried to keep the anger from his voice. “Your skills are a gift. They are a part of you. Why keep them hidden?”

Ren turned on his side. “I don’t think I’ve ever known what it was like to be seen for just myself. From the minute I was born, I was saddled with a name, money, responsibility and history. Even this situation between us—you would never have offered to become handfasted if I didn’t possess those things.” He peeked over at Hux, who offered no rebuttal, then forged ahead. “The reason I asked if you thought Lambelin liked me wasn’t because I was interested in a dalliance. It was because it would be the first time in my life that someone was interested in me. For myself.”

_But your behaviour ensures no one would want you at all._ Hux let out a long breath. “If we may, I would like to start over,” he suggested slowly. “Forego the illusion of the ‘spoilt heir,’ at least for the remainder of our journey.” He gave Ren a small smile. “It seems redundant, since I already know the truth of your deception.”

There was a long pause. “All right,” Ren finally answered, so softly that Hux had to strain to hear it. “But in turn, you need to stop telling me that I need only to think of my duty. I know you believe love to be foolish, but I don’t see why I can’t have them both.”

Normally, Hux would be wont to argue his point further, but he he was reluctant to break their tentative truce. He turned and wrapped his arm around Ren’s waist as Ren settled against him.

“Agreed.” After several more minutes, he pressed closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Ren’s ear. “I think people would be quite enamoured of you, if you gave them the chance.” His heart thumped at his confession as he buried his face against Ren’s back. The retort he expected never came, however, as Ren’s steady, deep breaths lulled him to sleep.

**.~O⚜O~.**

By the time Ren had slept off his fatigue and the anesthetic, it was nearing noon—too late to resume their journey. Hux decided to spend the day teaching Ren about the workings of a village. He knew of the disgruntlement which could result from one’s financial circumstance and lack of a voice. It was even crueler when such burdens were compounded by the ignorance and indifference of those charged with one’s care.

After visiting the church for their morning prayers, they walked by a row of cruck houses on their way to the fields. The tiny frames were covered in wattle and daub, reminding Hux of another lifetime. Ren seemed taken by the harvest, where the men and women were cutting golden stalks of wheat with their scythes, and children tied the sheaves to dry. The large carts were already piled high with their bounty, and the heap continued to grow.

“Is all this for the upcoming Harvest Festival?” Ren asked as he watched the flurry of activity.

Hux shook his head. “The festival is only a small reason for their urgency. As September draws to a close, it will bring with it the cold and rain and frost. If not enough is harvested before the weather turns, the villagers could face starvation.”

Ren appeared thoughtful. “Even the children. There were more when we passed the woods; several of them looked no older than six or seven. They were all carrying large baskets.”

“Most likely for the collection of berries and fruit. Or kindling, to help keep the fires burning in the upcoming winter.”

The sun beat down upon them, making the urgency of the situation distant. “You know of this life first-hand,” Ren realised. “How can that be, as the son of the second Baron of Arkanis?”

“My grandfather was a favoured follower of Lord Rax, who made him tenant-in-chief of Arkanis. Unfortunately, he was a good fighter but a poor leader, and the barony eventually became under-enfeoffed. When it came time for my father’s inheritance, he was unable to come up with the funds for baronial relief. What he lacked in money, however, he made up for with his charisma and cruelty. He had turned many a fair head, in his youth.

“My mother was only sixteen when she fell under my father’s spell. She was the middle daughter of the Viscount of Parnassos, who saw through my father’s greed and threatened to disinherit her if she continued their relationship. But she eloped with my father anyway, trusting in his love and the fairy tales of her youth.” Hux blinked as the sun grew too bright for his eyes.

Ren remained quiet. He raised his hand hesitantly as if to comfort Hux, but dropped it back to his side once Hux gave him a questioning look.

“My mother was already pregnant with me when they eloped. It is my belief that my father always thought the Viscount would change his mind and welcome them back into the family—if not because my mother was his favourite daughter, then because she was with child. But my grandfather never forgave my mother’s disloyalty. My father went to war while she and I stayed behind, finding work in the manor’s kitchens.”

“Ahh. Now I understand why you sympathised so much with the stable boy.”

“Yes. It turns out that I may have a heart, after all,” Hux said tightly.

Their wanderings took a more sombre turn afterwards. Ren remained unusually silent, and while Hux should have welcomed the introspection, he found their lack of conversation disquieting. It was with a mixture of apprehension and relief that they came upon the smithy, the loud clanging and heat and smoke unmistakable in the air.

The smile which filled Ren’s face upon their arrival was contagious. Hux scanned the interior of the shop with a quiet vigilance, his own smile matching Ren’s when the younger Lambelin was nowhere to be found.

Hux greeted an older man who was shaping a knife with a swage. “Hail fellow, well met. My companion and I had the good fortune of meeting Lambelin last night. He mentioned that he was working on a special blade, and we were interested in seeing it.”

“Ahh, yes. That would be my son. Reeve.” The man wiped the sweat from his brow, the soot leaving a grey streak against his ruddy skin. “He went to see Lady Kanata, to show her that very sword.”

“He seemed quite enthused by its progress.”

“My son is incredibly skilled; a knight from the neighbouring province has already commissioned him to make his next blade,” the senior Lambelin added proudly. “Not only does Reeve smelt and shape the steel, but he patterns it and designs the hilt as well. He may work with the jeweler on his more intricate designs, but he always completes the assembly himself.”

“It is a rarity nowadays, to see one’s artistry from beginning to end,” Ren commented. “Your pride in your son is well-deserved. We are sorry to have missed him and his work.”

“Perhaps you could stop by tomorrow,” the blacksmith offered.

“Unfortunately, we need to reach Canto Bight by Friday and will be travelling at dawnbreak.” Hux demurred.

“Ahh. Mayhaps another time then. And God spede on your journey.”

They turned to leave, but something drew Ren’s attention. He peered into a small box, the simple shape holding something enticing in its shallow depths.

The elder Lambelin’s brows raised high in surprise. “You have a keen eye, my Lord. There aren’t many who would recognise the gem in its uncut state.”

Hux looked at the stone and frowned. Its grey colour appeared entirely unremarkable.

“It is that which is hidden that makes it special,” Lambelin explained, turning it over. A small area was chiselled away, revealing what promised to be an exquisite ruby of the deepest blood-red. “Reeve originally planned for this to be the centerpiece of Sir Thanisson’s sword. But he is still young, and his father requested something simpler instead.”

“It is magnificent. It will make its eventual owner extremely happy,” Ren declared fervently.

“Better a man of ceremony, then,” Hux opined, “for pretty baubles won’t help him in the heat of battle.”

The look of disappointment on Ren’s face made Hux take pause. Lambelin seemed to sense that something was amiss because he boxed up the gem and tucked it away, his blue eyes filled with reproach as Hux and Ren thanked him and bade him goodbye.

They wandered near the river, the force of the flowing, pregnant waters roaring as it rushed towards the watermill. “The ruby _is_ a beautiful stone,” Hux conceded. “But war is brutal. There is no place for such loveliness in battle.”

Ren looked disappointed as he kept his eyes trained on the rushing waters. “You spend much of your life waging a military campaign. And even when you are not, you spend it far from home. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have something beautiful with you. To remind yourself of what you are fighting for.”

“Such sentiments are a weakness on the field. A gem like this would be better to bestow on another as a token of one’s affections.”

“I would be so moved if anyone ever gave me such a gift. I’ve never had the pleasure of someone declaring their intentions so.” Ren rolled his eyes as Hux looked at him in disbelief. “I have received plenty of gifts, ‘tis true. But they were bestowed in exchange for favours or in a show of deference. Never in true and honest affection.”

Hux sighed. “Your unfailing romanticism verges on the pathetic.”

“No sadder than a life of loneliness, filled with cold indifference.”

“You’ve sown your wild oats; enjoyed the blush of young love. It is time to put that aside.”

“I have never experienced either! And now I find myself promised to a man who believes love to be a delusion of the witless.” Ren threw up his arms in frustration, his voice creeping up in volume until Hux was forced to quiet him with an angry hiss.

“All your antics. . .your youthful dalliances and playful flirtations. Do you think they count for naught?”

Ren jut out his chin, his gaze defiant. “I have never experienced any to call my own!”

“You…” Hux thought back to when he first met Ren—before he even knew who Ren was, with his drunken and outrageous behaviour. He thought about the way in which Ren had looked at Lambelin, his amber eyes peeping up from behind his long lashes, his lush mouth parted in delight. “I don’t understand.” The words trailed off as Hux stood there, speechless.

“Last night was the first time I had ever been touched in such a manner. Until then, I had never even enjoyed a lover’s kiss.” Ren sighed, then to Hux’s surprise, brushed his hand along the curve of Hux’s jaw. His eyes were scared, and his expression young and vulnerable. “We are to be married. It would mean so much to know that you desire me—not my name, or the things attached to it.” His gaze dipped down to Hux’s mouth. “Would it be so much to ask for? To wish for a kiss from my intended?”

The impossibility of the situation, mixed with Ren’s unfortunate and idealistic notions played havoc with that small part of Hux’s conscience that screamed to confess all. He knew that Ren would feel betrayed once Hux’s agreement with the King and Queen came to light. But his heart—whether in sympathy or cowardice, or perhaps a little bit of both—forced it aside.

“Only one,” Hux conceded. “We are not yet wed, and to do anything more, however, would be unwise—”

His next words were cut off as Ren leant forward eagerly, the tip of his nose butting against the side of Hux’s face as he latched onto Hux’s lips like an exuberant pup.

“Wait,” Hux huffed, stifling a laugh. “Just…” He brought his hands up along the back of Ren’s neck, pulling him back gently, then held him in place as he moved in, his lips brushing against the pliant wetness of Ren’s mouth.

He had intended it to be chaste—a kiss that resembled a greeting, a sign of acknowledgement between two men. But then Ren inhaled, the soft sound of his wonderment drawing Hux closer. Ren’s mouth fell open as Hux’s weaved his fingers through the silky lengths of Ren’s hair, the taste of desire sweet and desperate on Ren’s tongue.

The world ceased to exist as the babbling of the water over the riverstone and the _chack-chack_ of the fieldfares amongst the hedgerows disappeared in favour of Ren’s languid sigh. His fingers clutched the folds of Hux’s cloak as their bodies slotted together, his increasing arousal evident against Hux’s thigh as he moaned.

Hux broke their kiss. He pushed back, green eyes wild as he took in Ren’s dazed expression.

“That was incredible,” Ren said giddily.

“Passable, for a first.” Hux looked away, his voice as strained as the front of his trousers.

Ren deflated. But when Hux looked up at him once more, the Prince’s eyes were focused on Hux’s groin. “Methinks the general doth protest too much,” he whispered, his smile hot and knowing.

**.~O⚜O~.**

Hux laid the remainder of his clothing atop the travel cloth. They would be up with the villagers at dawnbreak. Ren had not required another dose of mandrake root; if they maintained a fair pace they could reach Canto Bight by late evening, even with several judiciously timed respites.

He watched as Ren finished his evening prayers. It was one of the few times where Ren seemed at peace, the tumultuous energy which seemed to reside beneath his skin settling into something more quiet. His body was already bare, stripped for bed, a vision of pale flesh broken by a smattering of moles and the cruel mark from the deceased’s blade.

Finally, Ren’s long legs unfolded from beneath his powerful body as he stood to his full height. “Does your wound need changing?” Hux asked.

Ren looked down at his side, poking at it gingerly. “I think it will last until morn.”

“Best get some sleep, then,” Hux said as he snuffed out one of the candles.

There was a shuffling noise, followed by the creak of the bed. “I can’t believe we will be in Canto Bight by this time tomorrow,” Ren mused.

Hux remained silent. He was a man who valued solitude; his position as Sergeant Major General meant he was surrounded by many, yet there were few with whom he wished to share his company, whether while strategising or when warming his bed. Yet his week with Ren had been tolerable. Perhaps, if he were more socially-inclined, he would have found it almost enjoyable. Although Ren was still impetuous and demanding, he was nowhere near the glibly shallow and vain man Hux had once thought him to be.

“It will be nice to enjoy a banquet and the luxury of a fine bed,” Hux carefully agreed.

“Perhaps they will place us in the solar suite,” Ren said with a yawn. “On a night such as this, the rooms are filled with the scent of cyclamen and the light of a thousand stars.”

Canto Bight was as famed for its decadence as it was for its vicious gossip. An image of Hux fucking Ren into a downy mattress, surrounded by the softness of fine sheets and the fragrance of flowers came unbidden. “It is best to put such notions away. To sleep together while unwed and without anonymity would be unseemly.”

“We already share a bed. Plus, we are handfasted. It is just a matter of the ceremony.”

“You need rest, especially as you are healing.”

“I would miss you,” Ren admitted with a pout. He leaned back against the pillows, the muscles in his belly clenching as he winced slightly. “I’d gladly sacrifice sleep for your companionship. I find our conversations enjoyable.”

“They are oftentimes more confession that conversation,” Hux muttered under his breath. He strode over to the bed with the intent of blowing out the remaining candle.

Ren clasped Hux’s arm, holding him back. “If a confession is what you are expecting, I have one more.”

Hux lifted a brow indulgently and waited.

“You said I was a passable kisser. I want to be better,” Ren said, his voice determined. “More than that, I want to discover other forms of pleasure.”

Hux’s mouth went dry. “Your life is filled with one extravagance after another. I think you know more about pleasure than most.”

Ren’s mouth went flat. He took his cock in hand, pointing it lewdly at Hux. “The pleasures of the flesh.”

“No,” Hux practically shouted through the roaring in his head. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins. The hot pulse of it lodged deep in his gut, his pale skin blooming under Ren’s challenging smirk.

“We’ve already kissed. I want to learn more,” Ren rasped. He began moving his hand, his foreskin retracting slowly with every stroke.

Hux watched as Ren’s movements turned faster. He suppressed a groan, fighting the urge to press down on his aching arousal. “Apparently, you know more than you profess. It seems your hand’s familiarity with your prick is more than a passing,” he growled.

“We are to be wed—”

“But we are not yet.”

Ren’s hand stopped. “So you won’t do it?” he asked, his face taking on an mutinous expression.

“No. And stop being such a child; you should know better than to press your advantage.”

“Fine,” Ren snapped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Hux took a step forward. “Where do you think you are going?”

“I am taking your advice. I won’t take advantage of the fact that you will soon be my husband. However, as you are not yet, there is nothing prohibiting me from continuing my studies elsewhere.”

The muscle in Hux’s jaw ticked. “Once again, you dishonour our agreement. I did not consent to marry a common whore.”

“No, you did not,” Ren said, his cheeks pink with indignation. “You entered this agreement for my title, and the power and wealth which accompanied it. Certainly not for me, nor my virginity.” He pushed Hux aside as he grabbed his tunic. “Which you won’t have to concern yourself with any further, because I plan to be rid of it by the morn. Perhaps Lambelin, or one of the other guests will be man enough to assist me in my endeavours.”

The thought of another man inciting Ren’s desire and stealing his innocence filled Hux with an indescribable fury. “I wonder if you truly know what you are doing, to dare to defy me so,” Hux snarled. He moved forward until Ren’s knees hit the edge of the bed, until all Hux had to do was to tilt an inch further to touch the smooth heat of Ren’s skin.

“I do,” Ren whispered, his mouth parting in invitation.

Hux cupped Ren’s chin. “Do I have your permission to do with you as I please?” he asked, his breath curling along the shell of Ren’s ear.

“Yes.” Ren closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Please.”

The words destroyed any lingering doubt. Ren arched as Hux drew him in for a kiss, Hux’s fingers steady his hips.

“Not so fast,” he murmured, “lest we be done before we start.” He closed what space there still was between their bodies, tracing Ren's sharp hip bones as he parted Ren's thighs with his own. "Down," he told Ren. "Lay yourself out for me.”

Ren complied, the long lines of his body splayed out like an offering, his hands trembling with eagerness. Hux straddled Ren, his eyes drinking in the expanse of the moonlit skin as he kissed a line from Ren’s ear down to his chest. Ren’s nipples were dusky and hard, the sensitive flesh peaking beautifully as Hux caught the tip between his teeth.

“You are gorgeous like this,” he said as Ren let out a pleased moan. “Adorned in nothing but the sheen of your sweat, and your need for me. Perhaps this is how I’ll keep you, after we are wed.” Ren’s cockhead was flushed and rigid against his belly; Hux lowered himself between Ren’s milky thighs, smiling as his chest brushed against its rigid length and Ren visibly shuddered.

Ren whined, tilting his hips in an effort to reclaim the delicious friction.

Hux stopped him with a firm press of his hand. “As enjoyable as this is, I promise you that the reward will be even greater if you learn to delay your gratification.”

Ren gripped the sheets, his knuckles whitening from the effort. “It feels so good,” he gasped as his cock twitched. “Don’t stop.”

“You have much to learn,” Hux said with a modicum of amusement. He gently eased Ren’s legs apart, mesmerised by the tight, pink pucker of Ren’s arse and the heavy balls which dangled against his milky thighs.

Hux nuzzled the line of Ren’s hip, breathing in the scent of his musk. “Have you ever had a dildo or your fingers up your arse, stretching you out?” he asked, his nose rubbing gently over Ren’s wiry curls. His brow furrowed when Ren shook his head. He had little with him to stretch Ren out, a lengthy proposition regardless, given the novelty of the act.

“Will you not take me?” Ren asked, the shame and disappointment obvious in his expression.

“Not with my cock. But there are other ways.” Hux peered at Ren through his lashes, his lips twisting into something lascivious. “With my hand, and my mouth.” Hux blew across the tip of Ren’s prick, then suckled the swollen head. He swirled his tongue along the smooth, hot skin as Ren gasped above him, his fingers reaching forward to clutch Hux’s hair.

“God’s blood,” Ren cried. He bucked his hips, nearly choking Hux with his efforts.

Hux pulled back as Ren let out a whine of protest. “If you do that once more, you will earn a mouthful of teeth for your efforts,” he warned as his vision turned watery.

Ren closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I will be good. Please?” he asked, his voice full of yearning.

Hux slid lower, his eyes full of devilment. He licked a slow path along the underside of Ren’s cock as Ren grew impossibly harder,

“Oh God,” Ren wailed, his body thrashing as his fingers scrabbled against Hux’s shoulders.

Hux lifted his head, his pupils dark as he stared at the wetness of Ren’s mouth. “Your lips were made for this. You should be taking notes, for the day that it is you between my legs.”

“I want to. Gods, I want to,” Ren repeated, nearly incoherent.

Tomorrow would bring Hux’s reward, and the news of his betrayal. Regret swept over him, along with an anger that he would never get the chance to feel Ren’s lips curling around him, or his throat clenching around the head of his prick. To see those beautiful lines working as he swallowed.

Hux was determined to leave Ren a writhing and panting mess, ruining the prince for whoever came after. He licked Ren’s balls with the flat of his tongue, sucking one, then the other into the warmth of his mouth, their shape growing wet and heavy under the assault. Still sucking at the wet skin, he pried apart Ren’s soft cheeks, exposing his puckered, virgin hole.

Ren hissed and clenched as Hux traced the circumference with the tip of his finger.

“Shhh,” Hux murmured soothingly as he breathed in the heady, primal scent. He leant in, tracing the rim with his tongue as Ren howled in surprise, slowly loosening beneath him.

“Hux. . . _fuck!”_ Ren shouted, his hips lifting off the bed.

The uncontrolled mewling fed Hux’s arousal. He rutted against the mattress, the roughness of the sheets exquisite as he ate Ren out. When he penetrated Ren’s well-slicked hole, the prince gasped like he’d swallowed his tongue. Ren’s thick thighs tensed in ecstasy, trapping Hux’s head between them.

Hux sat back, his chin slick with spit as he worked his finger shallowly into Ren, feeling him start to loosen even more. A smug smile spread across his face as the resistance gave way, sucking him in. Ren’s face was stained pink, and his cock was an angry red, so hard that it looked painful. Hux pushed in a second finger, his pulse quickening as Ren bore down, the apprehension in his expression dissolving into something soft and greedy.

“Hux,” Ren panted as Hux sank his fingers to their knuckles. “I need. . .God, please.”

Ren let out a ragged sob that was so plaintive that Hux took mercy. He guided Ren’s cock to his mouth and swallowed him down, his fingers sliding in and out of Ren’s arse until Ren keened and the warm bitterness of his seed spilled into Hux’s mouth.

When Ren pushed back weakly from the overstimulation, Hux got onto his knees, straddling Ren’s hips with his own cock in his hand. He pointed the tip over the most vulnerable part of Ren’s groin, stroking hard and fast as he was gripped by the need to mark him with his release.

Ren watched with an awed expression. It was when his hand closed over Hux’s that Hux came with a shout. His vision turned white, his semen dotting the curly hairs that surrounded the base of Ren’s now-flaccid cock.

The smell of their sweat and sex hung heavily between them. Hux sat back on his haunches, taking several deep breaths as he tried to collect his thoughts.

Ren looked debauched. Painted and sticky.

Hux gathered the cloth from the nightstand and began wiping down Ren’s skin, then dropped it onto the floor and extinguished the remaining candle. The moonlight streamed through the dirty window, the cold weather making the night sky seem even brighter. Ren leaned over, his lips soft and demanding.

“Mmm. You taste of me,” he mused, the happiness evident in his eyes. He let out a soft, contented sigh, mumbling something unintelligible against Hux’s neck. The thought of what it could be made Hux’s heart clench.

  
  
  



	5. The Vainglorious Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…” Hux halted, inexplicably flustered. “I spent nearly a week with him, most of it alone. It is natural for two people to develop a deeper connection after so much time in each other’s company.”
> 
> “While a week may be long enough time to forge a connection, it is not too long for that connection to be unbreakable, Mr Hux.”
> 
> “Pardon?”
> 
> The King cleared his throat. “What my wife means to say is that we are grateful for your efforts. We couldn’t be more pleased with the outcome, and feel that Ben is now ready to make an appropriate match.”

* * *

It was nearly eight hours since they left Chandrila, with two more to go.

“Are you sure we’ll reach Canto Bight in time for supper?”

Hux glanced at Ren; the Prince had been surprisingly accommodating thus far, the incessant complaints of the early days of their journey all but disappeared. But their pace had slowed, and even Pliny and Vader were showing the strain.

“The border of the Westhills lies ahead. There is a peaceful spot where the Barchetta River forks. From there, it is less than seven miles to Canto Bight, and the trail will be easier to navigate once we cross. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to check on the horses and allow them a brief rest once we reach the river’s banks,” Hux suggested, peering at Ren.

“I don’t mind,” Ren replied, his relief palpable. His shoulders settled into something less unhappy, and he began to hum:

 _Car tant vous aim, sans mentir._  
_Qu'on porroit avant tarir_  
_La haute mer_  
_Et ses ondes retenir_  
_Que me peusse alentir_  
_De vous amer._  
_Sans fausser;_  
_Car mi penser._  
_Mi souvenir._  
_Mi plaisir_  
_Et mi desir_  
_Sont sans finer_  
_En vous que ne puis guerpir_  
_N'entroublier._ *

The tune, familiar to most, turned from plaintive to pure, the declarations of love cruelly dissonant as they warred with the guilt in Hux’s heart.

Still, he made no comment as Ren continued to sing, oblivious to Hux’s discomfort. They trudged for another quarter hour, the creaking wagon wheels kicking up the dirt behind them until they rolled to a rumbling stop. Hux dismounted, his brow furrowing as he stared out at the thicket far in the distance.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, jumping onto the ground gracefully. He led Vader to the river’s edge, the long neck of the magnificent palfrey descending greedily as it pawed the gentle waters.

“There used to be an apple orchard here. The boughs at this time of year were always heavy with fruit—juicy and plump, and sharply sweet.” Hux shook his head at the memory. “It is gone now.”

“You know this place.”

The sun glistened off the gently running waters. Hux leant over, dipping his hand into its shallow depths. “It was a long time ago,” he admitted, the river’s current cool against his skin. “My friend Phasma had an uncle who was an armourer in Westhills. We spent one summer here; the running water was a godsend, not only for making the armour, but for occupying two active and easily-bored children.”

Ren’s eyes were the colour of amber in the late afternoon sun. “You were happy here.”

Hux shrugged, the blades of grass crinkling as he sat. “‘Happy’ may be too strong a word. But I was able to forget myself, at least for a while.”

“It is hard to imagine you as carefree. You always seem to be _thinking,”_ Ren clarified as he flopped down next to Hux.

Hux arched a brow. “I like to be organised. I should hardly think that’s a fault.”

“But to live your life so rigidly…”

“I find it is better to be prepared than unhappily surprised.”

“But…” Ren snapped his mouth shut, his eyebrows drawn. He pulled at the ground, the grass coming loose in his hand and the shadow of a tall oak already long on the riverbank. “What kind of life is that, where everything is so carefully planned? There is no excitement; no unpredictability. It seems so terribly _boring.”_

“You are the future king, Ben,” Hux reminded him. He sighed; he had meant the words to be a reprimand, but somehow, they sounded beseeching to his ears. “You cannot be a good ruler without proper discipline or respect.”

“I assume you mean the respect of others. But I need to respect myself as well. I am not adverse to the idea of ruling, but I want to assume the mantle on my own terms.”

Hux rubbed his temples. “Showing the world a persona that you have crafted as vain, dim-witted, and spoilt is hardly living your life ‘on your own terms.’ It is a deceit, and at the very least, a tremendous disservice to you.”

“I understand that now,” Ren admitted softly. “There needs to be a balance. It is why I think we will work so well together.” 

Hux froze. “You overestimate me.”

“Why? Are you not the person who led us on this journey? Or the one who refused to travel with the royal caravan, surrendering safety and comfort because you knew it was necessary to break me of my perspective? Or the man who gave the stable boy a groat, despite the fact that we barely had enough for our meals, yet who always made sure that we were well-fed?”

“It was a paltry sum,” Hux said roughly. “And you didn’t eat anything that first night.”

Ren placed his hand over Hux’s. For someone who had lived such a sheltered life, it seemed protective and incredibly worldly. “You know I am to blame for the last. Although you certainly never made it easy.”

“You tried to run away,” Hux growled, happy to be back on more familiar ground.

“I learned my lesson. I have no desire to do so again,” Ren said shyly, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. “At least, not until you teach me some more things.”

Hux didn’t like the way in which Ren’s lashes had lowered, or how his voice dropped down into a purr. “I had no idea that you were interested in warfare and strategy,” he replied, purposefully obtuse. He removed his hand from Ren’s grasp. “Did you know that some armies create fire from saltpetre and turpentine, making their weapons even more deadly? It is quite effective in keeping the enemy from advancing from water to land—”

“How fascinating. Yet not so different from the barbed and vicious gossip of the royal court,” Ren countered. “ I think you’ll find the politics there nearly as deadly. To paraphrase a wise man, it is a place where those who are not your enemy will stab you in the front, and not the back.”

“Deception is part of human nature. The only difference is that those with means and influence often have prettier ways to hide it.”

“So you are well-prepared for the life of a noble, then.”

Hux shook his head and sighed. “My title is worthless. I grew up as the son of a bitter and absentee father, and a disillusioned and disowned kitchen worker. I have no need for false flattery, embroidered silks, or the wailings of a troubadour.”

“But you could accommodate to such a life, if you had to. I’ll wager you could do just about anything, if you set your mind to it.” Ren’s eyes lit up in merriment. “I can’t wait to see you dance at the ball.”

Hux laughed ruefully. “I’ve danced only twice in my life. The first was with my mother. The lord of the manor was hosting a dinner, and we could hear the sounds of the musicians, even over the bustle of the kitchen. The last was with Phasma.”

“And how did you do?” Ren prodded.

“I knocked over a tray of frangipane tarts and Shrewsbury cakes on my first attempt,” Hux answered with a grimace. “And on the second, I ended up in this very river as a result of my efforts.”

Ren let out a laugh so loud that the birds scattered from the tree branches above. “Did your hand land in a place it shouldn’t have?” he teased.

“No! Phasma . . .she’s like my sister. She has the sharpest tongue, the steeliest wit, and the fiercest loyalty. It was not my hands, but my feet that were the issue. Specifically, that they seemed overly-fond of tromping her toes.” Hux’s lips twitched at the memory.

Ren’s eyes flashed with glee and, perhaps, a hint of jealousy. “Get up,” he said imperiously as he stood.

“What?” Something in Hux rebelled at the order, but despite that, he found himself on his feet. “Are you ready to resume our ride?”

“We will be attending a ball tomorrow as the guests of honour. I won’t have my future husband treading over my delicate feet.”

Hux looked down at Ren’s exceedingly large appendages. “Your feet are anything but delicate,” he snorted.

“Nonetheless…” Ren stood there expectantly, holding out his arms.

Hux bit the inside of his cheek. Ren’s concern was meaningless; by tomorrow night, the terms of his agreement with the King and Queen would be known. Given Ren’s disdain for manipulation, there was no way he would be on speaking terms with Hux, let alone dancing with him at the ball.

But the enthusiasm on Ren’s face was compelling. Beyond that he cut an imposing figure, not only due to his sheer size, but because of his determination and unbridled potential. With a little more direction, the Prince had the capability of being an effective ruler. It saddened Hux, to think that he would have to witness the evolution from afar.

He slid into Ren’s waiting arms, willing away his disappointment. “Just one. Although you may soon regret your request.” They began to sway, tentatively at first. Hux swallowed, trying to recall the steps as Ren leant in, the weight of his huge body melting against Hux’s chest as the waters babbled and the birds sang above. After a fashion, his legs moved of their own accord, and his mood shifted toward the positive despite the misgivings of his mind.

Ren’s hand clutched the material of a Hux’s shirt, gathering it tight. “The only thing I’ve regretted about the last several days is that I didn’t meet you sooner,” he whispered.

“Ben…” Hux felt a hitch in his breath as he longed to confess all. “We’ll be in Canto Bight in a matter of hours. All this will disappear once we step foot into her walls.”

“Then let us have this moment,” Ben murmured, touching his forehead to Hux. The heat of his breath curled against Hux’s cheek and, despite the warmth of the day, made his skin prickle. “I shall tell my parents that I’m ready to assume my princely duties. We shall make a formal announcement of our betrothal at the ball. But until then, I want to enjoy what little time we have, away from everyone and everything. Just us.” Ben tilted his face as if to gauge Hux’s expression, causing their lips to brush.

Hux cupped Ben’s face in his hands, his green eyes memorising the intricate lines of Ben’s glorious face before he slanted his mouth, drawing Ben closer. Ben gasped, the quiet noise replaced by a needier one as he opened his mouth in response. Hux’s tongue took advantage of the invitation as it swept into the warmth, tasting the salt and sweetness of Ben’s neediness as he deepened their kiss. His kissed again with renewed vigour, each lick a desperate attempt to remember Ben’s taste while banishing the path for anyone who came after him.

It was through the haze of loss and lust that Hux finally realised that Ben was cupping his arse, the sharp jut of Hux’s hips thrust against the meat of Ben’s thigh. They were both hard, and there was nothing Hux wanted more in that instant than to lay Ben down and to explore the depths of his body.

For a brief moment, Hux allowed himself to imagine that such happiness with Ben was a possibility. But he knew first hand that true love didn’t exist, and that this was a byproduct of lust and novelty. Ben would no doubt tire of him soon after re-entering civilisation, and Hux refused to be damned by such folly, as his mother had been before him.

“We can’t.” Hux breathed Ben in, his voice hoarse as he held Ben’s pliant form against him. “The time grows late. We must get going,” he said, taking a step back forcibly.

“Then you owe me a dance later,” Ben teased, his lips reddened and wet. His face fell slightly once he witnessed Hux’s sour expression.

“Later,” Hux replied dully. He walked over the pack horse and checked the harness, then mounted Pliny, who watched inquisitively.

Ben frowned as he approached Vader, his long limbs stepping easily onto the stirrup and rising to sit astride the palfrey. “Lead the way.”

The curtness of the order, along with sight of Ben perched regally atop his horse, brought everything crashing down into reality. Hux’s future was as Commander of the Royal Army. He would pledge to Ben an oath of fealty as his liege, not one of love and domesticity. He had known that this moment would come—had thought himself prepared for it, but his traitorous heart had other plans. And despite the fact that he had foreseen the inevitable, allowing it to stab him from the front, he hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt.

Ben eventually resumed his humming, the ditty escaping in a mindless tune. It should have made the time less bearable, but Hux found himself hanging on to each passing note. When they passed through the city walls of Canto Bight, their horses and bodies weary from travel and hunger, it was too soon. Hux felt Ben slip from his grasp, and when they arrived at Lord Calrissian’s castle and were brought to their separate rooms, the snick of the door echoed Hux’s sentiments with a foreboding finality.

**.~O⚜O~.**

The beds were every bit as large and comfortable as Ben had promised, and the room perfumed with the scent of the nearby gardens—accommodations befitting a future king, Hux thought with bitterness. He splashed some water from the basin over his face. Despite the comfortable surroundings, he had been unable to sleep; his eyes appeared dark and hollow, the weight of his conscience evident as he made his way towards the King and Queen’s quarters.

“Your Majesties,” Hux acknowledged, his body sweeping low in a bow. “Mr Daniels said you wished to speak with me.”

“Please rise, Mr Hux,” the Queen commanded. Her brown eyes swept over Hux’s form;. Against his will, he felt himself stiffening under her sharp gaze. “It is good to see you once more.”

“In one piece, I must add,” the King said with an amused chuckle. “As much as I love my son, most have found it difficult to survive his antics for more than a single night.”

Hux’s lips thinned. “His Royal Highness proved to be a more than agreeable companion.”

“So we have heard,” Leia soothed. “From all accounts, our son has been nothing short of gracious and congenial since his arrival.”

“He even partook in weapons practise with several of the knights this morning.” Han shook his head. “Thank you for encouraging him how to wield a sword once more. It is a day I never thought would come.”

Anger simmered within Hux at the words. “Your son’s skill in swords play are beyond that of many, and his love for it apparent. They have always been there, for those who were willing to see.”

“You are displeased on Ben’s behalf,” the Queen mused. “You praise him and yourself, while condemning us in the same breath.”

Hux met her scrutiny without flinching. “My apologies. It was not meant as judgment, merely the truth.”

“Regarding your comment…I have seen the change with my own eyes. Ben is less brash, more thoughtful and in control. He showed enough contrition to win over the support of the prime minister. And he has informed us of his desire to take a more active role in bettering the welfare of Alderaan’s citizens.”

“His Royal Highness is smart and skilled, and possesses a sensitive heart. All he wishes is to be listened to.”

Leia arched a perfectly groomed brow. “And you think you are the one who hears him best.”

“I…” Hux halted, inexplicably flustered. “I spent nearly a week with him, most of it alone. It is natural for two people to develop a deeper connection after so much time in each other’s company.”

“While a week may be long enough time to forge a connection, it is not too long for that connection to be unbreakable, Mr Hux.”

“Pardon?”

The King cleared his throat. “What my wife means to say is that we are grateful for your efforts. We couldn’t be more pleased with the outcome, and feel that Ben is now ready to make an appropriate match.”

“Appropriate,” Hux echoed, his mouth pressed in a firm line. “Ahh. As in—”

“As in with someone who brings with them enough power and influence to secure a safe future of Alderaan and all her citizens. It is no coincidence that we are here at the Light Festival and Ball; there are plenty of appropriate suitors who might be willing to overlook Ben’s previous behaviours, for everything else that he has to offer.” Leia stepped forward, a large, red velvet bag visibly laden with coin in her hand. “As promised: five-thousand guineas, and along with it, your position as Commander of the Royal Army.” She thrust out the purse. As Hux’s hand twitched, her smile grew almost brittle. “I knew you were the right person for the job,” she added.

Hux’s gestured helplessly. “The marriage contract…”

“Will be annulled,” Han said gently. “We have already contacted the priest. It will require your signatures, since you are both of age. One with the terms of your new position will be drawn up to replace it.”

“Has His Royal Highness been informed of this?” Hux croaked.

“Not yet.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be the one who tells him,” Hux pleaded. “Despite our inauspicious beginning, I believe he warmed to the idea of a future together.” He looked away when Han stared at him with a dawning comprehension. “At any rate, I would appreciate it if the news came from me.”

“Whatever you think is the best. But it needs to be done before the ball tonight. I wouldn’t want Ben to miss out on any opportunities because of an illusion.” Leia held out the bag once more. This time, Hux accepted it.

“Thank you, Your Majesties.” Hux cinched the cord of the purse tighter and tighter, trying not to think about how it reminded him of a noose around his neck.

**.~O⚜O~.**

Hux rapped twice before Ben called out from the other side of the door, allowing him entry.

Hux pushed the door open slowly. Golden sunlight spilt across the room, making Ben look even more handsome than Hux remembered. He was dressed in clothing befitting his status as heir-presumptive to the throne, his silk tunic embellished with gold lace and embroidery and his fur-lined surcoat emblazoned with the Organa-Solo coat of arms. The opulence was staggering, reminding Hux once more of the difference in their stations, and he tried to hide his unease as he swept forward in a deep bow.

“Your Highness.”

The prince’s smile faded. “Ben.” His lips quirked as he motioned for Hux to rise. “Or Ren, if you prefer, when in private.”

The open warmth and teasing tone let Hux think, for one brief second, that all was right in the world. He straightened, steeling himself against such false hope. “I met with the King and Queen this morning.”

Ben gave him a quizzical look. “Did your meeting not go well?”

“It was . . .as to be expected.”

Ben’s face brightened, nearly matching that of the sun. “So we shall proceed with the announcement of our engagement.”

“There is no engagement!” Hux lashed out, the loss and sadness and bitterness turning him cruel. “This entire journey was devised to make you see the error of your ways! You are of an age where many of your peers are rulers—some for several years already. Your parents were at their wit’s end, especially since you had turned down previous requests for your hand in marriage. Our handfasting was just a pretense for me to inject some reason into you.”

The sound of booming laughter startled Hux out of his tirade. “That was not the only thing you sought to inject,” Ben said, his shoulders shaking as he wiped his eyes.

Heat flushed throughout Hux’s face. “Did you not hear what I said?” he hissed. “I was _paid_ to spend time with you. I was given a princely sum for bringing you to Canto Bight, and further rewarded when your parents granted me the position of Commander of Alderaan’s army in exchange for your acceptance of the notion of marriage.” He took a deep breath, trying not to choke as the confession began to overwhelm him.

“Hux…” Ben slipped off the edge of the bed, his stride purposeful and with a quiet energy. “I know all this. My mother is not as crafty as she would like to think. You are hardly the first person with whom she has tried to encourage my affection.” His dark brow lifted in amusement. “Although I must say, she had never offered such a bounty previously. Commander of the Royal Army, you say? She must have despaired at the idea of me never getting married.”

Hux bristled. How could he have misread Ben so much? “I am perfectly well-suited to lead your forces,” he said stiffly. “In fact, I had come to interview for the position, which I sought to obtain on my own merit.”

Ben lifted his hand, placing it gently on Hux’s arm. “You _are_ worthy; of that, I have no doubt. You are the first person who could put up with my malbehaviour for more than a day. You taught me to be proud of who I am. You encouraged me to celebrate my individuality, while resisting the manipulations of others. But most of all, you showed me what it meant to open myself to another. For the first time, I can see myself spending my life with someone else.”

“Not with me,” Hux whispered. “That is an impossibility.”

“Why?” Ben raised his hand, the tips of his fingers running along the line of Hux’s jaw. “If it is because of your title, I care not a whit for such things. We cannot control the circumstances of our birth; only what happens after.”

A lump grew large in Hux’s throat. He fought his guilt, burying it deeply. “It’s not that. I warned you about the falsity of love from the start.”

The hand that had been caressing his cheek dropped. “Can you not see yourself being married?”

“Perhaps, one day. I have no legacy to speak of, and continuing the family name has never been a concern. But if I do, it will be for the sake of an alliance.”

Ben grew quiet. “What of companionship?”

“That is a luxury, not a necessity. I have been self-reliant for most of my life, even though I spend the majority of my days surrounded by an army of hundreds. Sometimes, thousands.”

“Are you equating my company to that of your army?” Ben asked, his voice small.

Once, when Hux was fourteen and part of the infantry, he watched as a spearmen was impaled by an enemy’s arrow. The wound in his leg had festered until its margins turned black, and the skin around it, a deadly, bluish-purple. Hux had been tasked with holding his friend’s hand as the doctor amputated the offending limb, eventually squeezing his eyes until the screams died in a merciful faint. The importance of removing such corruption, whether of flesh or thought, no matter how painful, was a lesson which Hux had never forgot.

“I was paid to be in your company,” he said in response.

Ben blinked. He turned, but not quickly enough for Hux to miss his stricken expression. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said, his shoulders rigid. “I am disappointed, of course. But I would never want to be married to someone who doesn’t want me for myself.”

Hux shuffled his feet. “I am sorry, Your Highness. But the one thing I’ve learned is that in life, people will never cease to disappoint you.”

Ben remained with his back turned. “Agreed. But having said that, I never thought that you would be amongst them.”

**.~O⚜O~.**

“I am sorry, boy,” Hux whispered, patting Pliny’s flanks. “I am sure you would have preferred another day of rest. But a nice meal awaits us, and where we are headed, you will have nothing but the finest hay and oats, and a royal stable in which to sleep.” Hux had travelled lightly; his saddlebags and blanket roll, and two purses filled with coin along with his clothing and weaponry were all that were required. Without a packhorse to slow his pace, he had reached the village of Chandrila in well under four hours.

“Mr Hux! Are you back so soon?”

Hux alighted and gave Temiri a game smile. “Yes. I had a wonderful stay here previously, and could think of nowhere better on my return journey.”

“So you’ll have time for the Harvest Festival, after all!” Temiri said eagerly.

“Perhaps.” Hux didn’t have any particular destination in mind for the immediate future; he had over a fortnight before he needed to be back in Alderaan, as per the terms of his contract.

“Will Lord Ren be joining you?” Temiri asked, peering down the well-worn path.

“No. His services were required in Canto Bight. I shall be continuing alone.”

Temiri did a poor job in hiding his disappointment. He tilted his chin, watching Hux curiously. “Isn’t that lonely? Travelling by yourself?”

“There are benefits. I have no one to answer to but myself. I can change my plans on a whim, come and go as I please. Enjoy the quiet in peace, and become lost in my own thoughts. Not needing to share the last bits of my supper, or my tobacco.”

Temiri said with a laugh. “I have five younger brothers and sisters. I can’t imagine what it would be like, without having everyone at my feet.”

Hux gave him a considering look, then reached into his purse and withdrew six guineas. “You have impressed me with your hard work. I have something for you; one for you, and for each of your siblings.”

Temiri’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Mr Hux,” he sputtered. “You are much too generous.”

Hux bent down until he was level with the young boy. “I was once in your position. I know how the smallest bit of luck or kindness could mean a world of difference. Use it wisely, and if you should ever find yourself in the position to do so, remember to return the favour.”

“I shall,” Temiri promised fervently.

**.~⚜~.**

It was already half past three, yet the activity at the smithy’s showed no signs of slowing. Hux watched as the elder Lambelin carved a groove into the hot iron, his hands sturdy despite the weight and heat. A number of villagers were milling about with household sundries in hand, and a knight wearing a haubert carried a pair of dented poleyns. Hux wandered through the small space and found himself in front of the table that held the small, intricately-carved box.

“Did you find something of your liking?”

Hux turned. “Reeve,” he greeted the young man. “I’m Hux. We met at the Takodana Inn.”

Lambelin’s blue eyes swept over Hux cooly. “I remember. You were in quite the hurry.”

“It was a long day, and we still had a considerable ways to travel.”

“In that regard, you seem to be unsuccessful,” Lambelin remarked. “After all, it is several days later, and you are no further than when you started.”

“There is more that happened in that time than you could possibly imagine,” Hux said, his voice deceptively calm. “Some journeys begin and end in the same place; the distance is not always a measure of what has transpired.”

“Touché.” Lambelin’s posture eased, and his tone became less contrary. “Were you happening by, or did you come here for a purpose?”

“You spoke of your skill in fashioning a blade. I was curious, and wished to see an example…” His voice trailed as his gaze returned to the box.

“I see.” Lambelin remarked, not appearing as if he understood at all.

“When I was here last, my companion was quite enamoured with a gem you were working on. A ruby, although at the time, it was still uncut.”

“It still is. I have not found a suitable purpose for it yet. Not many can see the beauty of a stone in its unpolished state. My father told me of your visit; he was surprised by your lord’s astuteness.” Lambelin opened the box and removed the ruby, handing it to Hux. Hux turned it over, noting the blocky form and red hue of the gem, dull amongst the surrounding rock.

“‘Tis not so different in this state than some of the stones that are found in the river,” Hux mused.

“A ruby’s hardness and sheen, once polished, is beyond compare. But a river rock may have a beauty all its own; one that is created with time, and over the course of nature’s hand.”

“Nature is not always gentle. She will caress you with her beauty on the one hand, and smite you with her vengeance with the other.”

Lambelin looked at Hux with something approaching pity. “This goes beyond a simple stone, even one as glorious as this.”

Hux felt his world slipping away, the title and respect of his new position a pittance against immeasurable loss. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to catch his breath.

Lambelin pulled up a chair, the legs scraping against the old, battered floor as he sat. “You are hardly the first person who has experienced the pain of a love lost. There are at least a thousand songs testifying to that fact.”

“Who said anything about ‘love’?” Hus retorted, unable to keep from sneering.

Lambelin held up his hands. “My mistake. So this has nothing to do with Lord Ren.” He tucked the ruby into the box’s small compartment. “It was only that you seemed very protective of him when we last met.”

“Lord Ren was my charge, and you should apologise for your insinuation!”

“Stop teasing the young man,” the elder Lambelin chided, cuffing his son on his ear as he joined them. He stood near Hux, giving him a considering glance. “I couldn’t help but overhear my son’s inconsiderate remarks. By the same token, however, I also could see how much they affected you.” His eyes, a lighter, warmer shade of blue in comparison to his son’s, twinkled. “It appears that Reeve’s perspicacity may be as sharp as his blade’s.”

Hux felt the sweat bead along the edge of his forehead. “It was because of the repute of his blades that I had come to see you. I now see that it was a mistake.”

The senior blacksmith’s face softened. “There is no dishonour to care so much for another that their loss makes us ache. It is what keeps us human. Even more so, when our lives are spent in battle.”

“I—how did you know?” Hux asked, unable to deny the truth any longer.

“A smith’s success lies not just in their skills, but in how they work with people. We do our best, whether it is designing a lance for a famed knight, or mending a poker for a communal hearth. I recognise the accents of those who were not of the highest born—the guttural notes and too-quick lilts that can slip, despite years of masking. I see the stance of someone who is used to commanding, and the callouses and muscle of bodies that were meant for fighting. And, most of all, I understand love, and love lost, because they are an experience that is universal.”

“My loss was of my own making,” Hux confessed. “That is what makes it so difficult.”

The wrinkles in Lambelin’s face deepened. “Have you tried to apologise to your young man?”

Hux shook his head. He had done anything but—tried to hurt Ben by hiding his true sentiments, and falling back on his own fears in an act of cowardice. “I’m afraid that it goes beyond words of contrition.”

“There are very few things in our lives that are irreparable. To do nothing is to be complicit in the state you find yourself in. Lord Ren did admire the ruby greatly; perhaps that may help, to make amends.”

Hux took a long breath. He could purchase the ruby as a grand gesture of his affections and request a second chance. He certainly had the money to do so. But the memory of Ben’s refusal to take the bandits’ purse echoed in his head. Ben had claimed that it was tainted, but it had been nowhere near as befouled as the pelf which Hux had gained on his own.”

“My lord did. But I can’t; the gift would be impure of heart, though not through any fault of your own. I will have to find some other way,” Hux decided as he got to his feet.

Both father and son looked apologetic. “I am sorry we couldn’t be of more help,” the younger said, without any hint of guile.

“You have been. More than you know.”

**.~⚜~.**

Hux started towards the inn when the village’s small church came into view. He was never a religious man—a lifetime of disappointment and doubt regarding the sanctity of life eroded his spiritualism long ago—but the quietness and lack of reproach drew him in. His footsteps echoed as strode through the nave, the light from the window above the chancel a warm glow in the otherwise dark space. The colours dappled the floor, turning the muted greys and browns of the interior into a kaleidoscope of hues. He felt at a loss; even as a child, he felt judged and uncomfortable, a facade in his own skin. But as he continued, the burden of his past actions blurred his vision, distressed his thoughts, and slowed his feet until he found himself stopped, the blunt edge of something solid pushing against his chest.

The wood of the mite box was blackened, worn smooth from the countless hands that had donated and received. Hux felt around for the smaller purse which slung low on the right side of his hip and removed it from his belt. It was with a great relief that he loosened the string, the pall of the highwaymen and their deadly encounter lifting. He began to empty the contents into the opening of the offertory box, each clink ticking away at his transgressions. The relief was great, and he tilted the bag further until the coins began to pour—too many, too soon, as several rolled around the edges and fell to the ground.

Hux went down on bended knee in an effort to collect the runaway coins before they became too-widely scattered. Something sharp pressed against the meat of his palm; he let out a sound of surprise and turned it over, and his annoyance morphing into awareness and then comprehension, as he finally understood the answer to his biggest problem.

**.~O⚜O~.**

Hux rode Pliny as hard as he could without sacrificing their safety. The edge of the sun was already disappearing into the distance, and the colours of the sky were fading to a dusky grey.

“Hang in there,” Hux murmured. The destrier seemed to realise the urgency; he nickered, his body leaning further into the movement despite the sweat that had built under his hairs. “I promise you, you will have nothing but the finest of everything once we reach Alderaan.” Pliny snorted, but didn’t stop until the spires of the cathedral grew large before them, and Lord Calrissian’s castle glowed with the heat of the torches that lined its thick stone walls.

A procession of elaborately decorated carriages drawn by teams of well-matched horses were already lined up outside the castle for the night’s ball. Hux dismounted quickly, handing Pliny’s reins over to an astonished stable boy who recognised him from that morning. He ran towards the hall, oblivious to the stares and hushed whispers that followed in his wake.

“Mister Hux?” The cultured tones of Mister Daniel’s voice couldn’t hide his shock. “This is highly irregular…”

“I need to see His Royal Highness,” Hux panted. His hair might have been plastered against his forehead and his clothing in disarray, but he couldn’t care less. He raised his voice to carry over the music that played in the background. “It is urgent; the kingdom’s future is at stake.”

A cool voice interrupted Hux’s plea. “I highly doubt that, Mr Hux,” Leia said, raising a supercilious brow. “The only thing that has changed between the events of this morning and now is the fact that my son is back where he belongs.”

She looked more regal than Hux had ever seen—perhaps more regal than _anyone_ he had ever seen. A long gown of purple silk shimmered in the light; the body of her tunic decorated with lace and gemstones, while her sleeves were trimmed with fur. The discrepancy in their stations was not lost upon Hux, and he squared his jaw as his hand gripped his purse.

“I beg your pardon in advance, Your Majesty. But the truth of the matter is that Ben belongs with me.”

Leia’s brow lifted even higher. “I have a signed contract that says otherwise.”

Hux drew out the parchment from his pocket, the vellum crinkling under his grip as he began ripping it into pieces.

“What contract?” he asked as the fragments rained down onto the stone floor. The royal pendant seal followed, its tasselled, waxy weight landing with a deafening thunk.

Leia darted a glance to her right, where Mr Daniels had been hovering nervously. The number of people who were nearby had swelled conspicuously, most eyeing the proceedings with unabashed interest.

“Mr Daniels; please ensure that any chin-waggling is kept to a minimum. Mr Hux, you are coming with me.”

**.~O⚜O~.**

The moonlight spilled silver over the gardens, its delicate beams touching the fading foliage and the stalks of verbena which perfumed the air. The sounds of music and chatter provided a muted backdrop in the distance, punctuated with bursts of merriment as Hux stepped forth into the courtyard, his heart hammering against his chest.

Ben stood gazing out into the distance, his profile breathtaking in silhouette. The dry leaves crackled under Hux’s foot and Ben turned, his mouth parted slightly in shock. He was as beautiful as Hux had remembered, with his strong nose and lush lips, and the powerful breadth of his body. But his eyes were also wary, rimmed with a darkness below.

“Ben.”

The familiarity of the greeting seemed to stir something inside the prince. “Protocol dictates that you address me as ‘Your Royal Highness.’ It is proper, especially as you’ve sworn an oath of fealty.”

Hux bowed his head then knelt before Ben, laying his sword at his feet. “ _"I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to you. To never cause you harm, and will observe my homage to you completely against all persons, in good faith and without deceit,"_ he recited. He looked up, his lashes pale and green eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

“Don’t you mean my family? It is to my father that you should be paying your homage.”

Hux reached out with his palms up in a clear act of submission. “To _you,”_ he corrected emphatically.

“The Commander of the Royal Army is under the King’s leadership,” Ben said, his brow furrowing deliciously.

“And it is a position which is currently vacant, at least for the time being.” Hux grimaced as the dampness from the stone ground seeped through his trousers. “Would you mind if I stood? I have been riding for the last seven hours, I am unused to prostrating myself before anyone, and my arse and legs are rebelling against the position.”

Ben huffed out a laugh despite himself. “Stand,” he said, holding out his hand as he gave Hux a once-over. “Would you mind explaining what you mean, and why none of this could have waited until tomorrow?”

“I destroyed the contract,” Hux replied, wincing as he dusted off his knees. “And returned the money I was paid.”

“All of it?” Ben asked, astonished.

Hux nodded. “All but six guineas. Which I will give back, once I am able.”

Ben’s eyes gleamed, boring into Hux. “But you are in dire straits. What possessed you to do such a thing?” he whispered.

“There is something that I want more than security or prestige,” Hux said slowly. “And as difficult as my financial situation is, the prospect of being without the other is unspeakable.”

Various expressions flitted across Ben’s face. “And what is that?” he asked, taking a step closer.

Hux reached into his pocket, his hand closing over the stone that he had discovered on the church floor. “You. I don’t want to be alone. I want to spend my life with someone who challenges me, and who pushes me to be a better version of myself. I want the possibility of being loved, despite all my faults.” He held out his hand, the jagged edges of the rock rough, but speckled with gold. “I am ambitious. On the field, there are few who are my equal—and yes, I say that with confidence in its truth,” he added as Ben smiled. “But off the field, I don’t have much else to offer. I don’t have a title to speak of, nor money to spend on lavish gifts. I only have myself, and the promise of commitment. But I was reminded by someone that you have the ability to see the good in things, even if it might be hidden. And I am here, hoping that your insight extends to me.”

“Oh, Hux,” Ben said fondly, closing the distance as he gathered Hux in his arms. “With your confession, you have given me so much. You give me your trust; your _love._ It is the most precious thing I could ever ask for.” The air between them grew thick with desire as he leant in, his lips soft and fervent and warm.

Hux surrendered himself to the kiss, his heart singing as the rest of his body clamoured for more. But this was not the place; there would be plenty of opportunities later, in private.

Ben sighed as they pulled apart reluctantly. “My mother must have been furious,” he murmured. “You are best qualified for the position, no matter the terms of your original agreement.”

“I admit that there are not many people who give me pause,” Hux chuckled. “But your mother might be one of them.” He cupped Ben’s face and nibbled the corner of his mouth, already greedy for its taste. “She did offer it to me once more, actually. But there is a stipulation.”

“There is?” Ben asked, both curious and alarmed.

Hux nodded. “The proviso was one of my own making. I told her that I loved you, and that I wanted to pursue a relationship with you. One that was more than professional.”

The happiness on Ben’s face was blinding. “So you are looking to court me. So what was the caveat?”

“That I would not be able to accept the position, if you did not feel the same.”

“I see.” Hux forced himself to drag his gaze from the sinful shape of Ben’s mouth as the prince bit his lower lip. “And she agreed to your condition?”

“Yes. _Both_ your mother and father, in fact. Your happiness is of the greatest importance to them. They wished for you to be open to the idea, and had always hoped you would connect with one of your suitors. But they would have never allowed you to go through with a marriage to which you were not agreeable, especially to a mercenary. When I abjured the contract and returned the monies, I had gained their respect and, along with it, their consent to pursue your hand in marriage.”

“I would like that. I am not ready to be handfasted, at least not yet. But I could see myself married to you, in the near future.” Ben’s long fingers caressed the front of Hux’s robes, the coarse material dusty and darkened from his journey. “When we first met, your clothes were stained as well,” he mused.

“A stain of your own making, if you remember,” Hux snorted.

Ben smiled. He took Hux’s hand and placed it over his heart. “I do. And since you’ve given me your confession, here is mine: I am not easy. I am prone to moodiness, and my emotions will be raw as I discover my new role and try to repair my relationship with my parents.”

“You don’t say,” Hux drawled.

Ben gave Hux a playful push. “I have no doubt that you and I will fight—sometimes, probably horrendously. But I look forward to working out our differences, as long as it comes from a truthful place.”

Hux pulled Ben in until their chests slotted together. “I look forward to working out our differences and curbing your mood swings,” he growled as his hands cupped the swell of Ben’s buttocks and gave them a firm squeeze. “I am a skilled disciplinarian, after all.”

“A vainglorious boast, if I ever heard one,” Ben countered. He threaded his hands through Hux’s hair, his cheeks visibly pink in the moonlight as he tilted his face in a playful smile. “Are you sure? After all, I might take great delight in proving you wrong.”

“Never surer,” Hux swore. He sealed his oath with another kiss—this time, with only himself and Ben as witness, and the moon and stars above.

**_~Fin~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Foy Porter** (partial lyrics, translation):  
>  _For I love you so, without a lie_  
>  _That one could sooner dry_  
>  _The wide seas_  
>  _And hold back its waves_  
>  _Than I could slacken_  
>  _My love for you._  
>  _Without deceit;_  
>  _For my thoughts._  
>  _My memories._  
>  _My pleasures_  
>  _And my desires_  
>  _Are forever_  
>  _On you whom I cannot leave_  
>  _Or begin to forget._

**Author's Note:**

> *Come say "hi" on Tumblr: [nerdherderette](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdherderette) and [firstorder-pixie](https://firstorder-pixie.tumblr.com/)


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